A Child of the Box: Vault 123
by Vault Avatar
Summary: I had always lived within the confines of VaultTec Vault 123. I knew nothing of the world beyond that metal door, of what was once the state of Connecticut. But now that the door is open, the world is open as well. Frankly, I liked the vault much better.
1. Discovery

**June 6, 2283 – 11:34 am**

We stumbled as one from the dark confines of Vault 123, hiding our eyes from a light above us that no one knew of. As we gathered ourselves, more of the residents climbed out of the giant metal door that stood as an entrance. It was so bright out, it was impossible to see anything, and we weren't sure if it would be good news or not. I felt a crackle under my feet, and I was relieved to know that it wasn't dirt. Now that my eyes had adjusted, I beheld what was before me.

"Look at all the trees!" someone gasped.

"I can't believe I've never seen one before," another one said.

"I expected something totally different."

"It's beautiful…"

Now _that_ voice belonged to someone that I knew well. Of the 156 residents in our Vault, Jessie was one of the few that I could recognize from a distance. Well, from what is considered a long distance in the Vault, equivalent to the length of the hallways.

As she came up to me, I couldn't help but notice how the light made her hair and face look even prettier.

"It's amazing isn't it?" she asked me. I took just a second to marvel at the canyon forest. What I thought was a large oak tree grew from the side of the ravine, surrounded by elms, birches, and plants of all kinds native to the region. Little chirping birds nested in the extending branches while red squirrels could be seen scavenging down a footpath. It was surely, unquestionably…

"Perfect." Jessie smiled broadly at my response, and looked around with me. The foliage went high up to the top of the canyon, and above that was a clear blue sky. The wildlife thrived all around, and seemed unnerved by our presence. For a brief moment, I wondered if they'd ever seen humans before.

More and more 123 jumpsuits continued to pour out of the door, rub their eyes, and stare in astonishment. None of us could believe that the world we would wake up to was as wonderful as this. Finally, the Overseer jumped out last and referred to a small console, which quickly closed the huge door. He turned to the crowd, his people, and jokingly shouted:

"I hope you didn't leave anything behind, because that thing is never opening again!"

A lot of people cheered, though most started rummaging through their luggage to make sure that something of value was still in there. I barely had anything besides what was in my backpack, and had made sure that my room was literally spotless. I assumed my mom had done the same, but she was notorious for losing stuff like birthday gifts; hers as well as other's. I looked across the clearing, past the crowd, in search of her, but she had that hairstyle that every woman liked, so it was quite difficult. Finally, she reached me, but before she could speak, the Overseer began a long speech that he must've written a long time ago, because the beginning was like any other speech he gave:

"For two hundred years, our parents, grandparents, great-grandparents and probably beyond lived in a tiny metal box, safe from the devastation that was the Great War. They recalled hearing it, banging onto the ground from high in the sky, coming from some country like China or Iran: the nukes. Even after it ended, they were not given the okay to leave. They feared what the world had become, and even today, I expected to be met with something completely opposite to what I see before me. But we were wrong to judge the powers of time. We were wrong to judge the extent of the world's wanting to correct its mistakes. Today we took our first step into a world meant to have been destroyed, and instead we find Eden. I personally am…"

"So, how do you like the surface?" my mother asked quietly while the Overseer still spoke. I peered at all the other people, listening politely to the old man. Even Jessie was completely focused on him. Being his niece, it was only respectful. I turned back to my mom, who beamed at me with pure happiness. But she expected an answer.

"Well, I dunno. It's beautiful here. But what about the rest of it?"

"If this place survived, I'm sure most of the world is on the right path from here on out."

"What about outside the canyon?"

"That's what we're supposed to see after Mr. Head Honcho lets us go."

She turned back to that Head Honcho, who was wrapping up his address on how the world will be so wonderful now.

"… the leaders will do the right thing. Our Vault was never supplied with a GECK, but it seems we do not need it anyways. So without further ado, let us, the people of Vault 123, experience the New Earth!"

The crowd cheered tremendously. We turned around, and started filing down the footpath, towards our new future… our final destination.

* * *

**11 hours ago**

Overseer Anthony Krakeur woke with a start. He'd been dreaming about something, but he couldn't remember what. All he could recall was something breaking the visions apart until he appeared back in his bed. Rubbing his eyes, he crawled out, having every intention in the world to grab a whiskey from the kitchen.

"_What woke me?" _he thought, still groggy as he opened the refrigerator and grabbed the bottle. Taking a quick swig, he closed the door and sneaked back to his bedroom.

"_There's barely anything in this place that could wake me up. We're 200 feet below ground, and the only things that makes noise here are the people. Maybe a guard was clumsy, or a little kid got out of bed, or…" _His thoughts stopped instantly when he saw the blinking light next to his bed stand. The light had never blinked before. Not when his father was Overseer, nor when his grandfather held the position. But he knew what it was. Underneath the light was a little screen.

URGENT!

REPORT TO OVERSEER TERMINAL

IMMEDIATELY

Krakeur did just that.

Rushing quickly from his quarters, he leapt down the hall to the Overseer's office, passing by a sleeping Officer Matheson, who didn't even stir from his late-night slacking. As soon as Anthony opened the door, he nearly fainted. Every computer, every screen, everything in his office was ringing and blinking, awaiting his arrival. The Overseer sped to his business terminal, and punched in the password, only to be met with another wave of lightheadedness. A message waited for him in the e-mail application. Still feeling woozy, Krakeur tentatively opened it.

CONGRATULATIONS, VAULT 123!

THE TIME HAS COME TO TRADE THOSE

VAULT-TEC JUMPSUITS IN FOR A BRAND NEW

EXPERIENCE ABOVEGROUND!

ALL TESTS IN THIS VAULT ARE OFFICIALLY FINAL

AND HAVE BEEN PASSED.

DURING THE NEXT 48 HOURS, YOUR VAULT DOOR

WILL BE OPEN FOR YOU TO DISCOVER THE WORLD

THAT HAS BEEN AWAITING YOUR RETURN!

WE WISH YOU A WONDERFUL TIME IN YOUR NEW ENVIRONMENT!

THANK YOU FOR CHOOSING VAULT-TEC.

Anthony Krakeur, Overseer of Vault 123, a man who had been born and assumed that he would die in this bunker, simply gaped at the computer. Now that the message had been received and read, all the noises and lights had stopped, but Anthony could hear his heart beating louder than anything.

_"The door's open?"_ he thought vaguely. "_We can go outside? Aboveground?"_

It seemed too good to be true. It _was_ too good to be true. He had lived here his entire life. Sure, he had seen pictures and read textbooks about the Earth his grandfather had left behind. But, the things in those books seemed unreal to him. Impossible. He had never seen a plant, much less another animal, unless you count the troublesome Radroaches.

Slowly, but surely, his mind came back to him, and he took quick action. He activated the monitoring computer behind him and read the stats that were supposedly about the surface. He hadn't checked these in a long time, and besides, the doors don't open unless Vault-Tec commands it. He couldn't have left if he wanted to. After a second of loading, the numbers appeared on the screen.

AIR TEMP. – 76 DEGREES FARENHEIT

GROUND TEMP. – 62 DEGREES FARENHEIT

RADIATION – 3 MREMS PER MINUTE

SOLAR EXPOSURE – UNAVAILABLE

It seemed reasonable enough. It was June, so the temperature seemed normal for the summer, and the ground temperature was a full six degrees higher than estimated in post-nuclear exposure. Krakeur had no idea how to read radiation millirems, but he was pretty sure that 3 was relatively low. When he looked at "solar exposure" however, he was unnerved. _"Unavailable? How?"_ Perhaps the monitoring station was damaged. This came as no real surprise, since there was no one to fix it. Still, he wondered.

But now was not the time for wondering, it was time to let his people know of this new development. He was sure they'd be thrilled, or at least anxious, to discover what was out there. He grabbed the intercom and spoke to the entire Vault:

"Rise and shine everybody! I am terribly sorry to wake you, but something has occurred of great significance." He was sure they would respond positively. They'd been waiting for this their entire lives. Besides, what could possibly be out there?


	2. Realization

**June 6, 2283 - 11:51 am**

The canyon path ended at a heavy metal gate between the two cliff sides. Officer Hector Fogarty was leading, and so he had the honor of unlatching and opening it. His strong arm shoved the gate away and our eyes were once again welcomed by sunlight. One by one after him, we stepped into a forest clearing, just as bright and green and beautiful as the canyon, except we could see more of that blue sky beyond.

Once we were all crowded again, the Overseer pushed his way to the front, in the direction that all of our Pip-Boys said was east, and silently declared that he would lead us. Everyone was talking. The parents were murmuring, the old folk were grumbling, and the children were all playing loudly together. Jessie was among them, less of a playmate and more of a moderator, since she was about twice as old as most of them. When little Grant Matheson decided to beat on Simon Helms, she was always there to break them up. It was something she was said to have got from her mother, whom I'd never met.

The path wound from the canyon up a hill and was perfectly sided by several varieties of trees. It was this path that the Overseer led us, and we willingly followed. All we could see was the endless green forest to our sides and the sky above us. It was not enough, and I felt it too. I wanted to see the world.

While we walked, I attempted to be silent, mostly for dramatic effect when we finally reached the top. But my mom was restless and she needed to say something to someone.

"See? Don't you see?" she directed at me. "This whole place is beautiful, not just the canyon! The Earth is fine… we'll be fine."

I stared at her while she shone her white teeth everywhere and at everything. Though her smile was contagious, I couldn't help but think that the perfection made everything seem too sterile. Maybe she shouldn't have taken Doctor Ambrose's experimental (yet very successful) tooth whitening treatment. She was one of only five who did, and the result was somewhat creepy. That aside, I smiled with her and told her "We haven't reached the top yet."

"Don't be such a pessimist, Dan," she scolded. "That's all you do, think the worst. You believed that you were going to fail your math exam last week, and you did great. You thought that the tooth care old Dr. A was doing would be a bust, but it came out perfect!"

Wow. Ironic.

We had almost climbed to the top of the hill and I could feel each person around me holding a bated breath. I couldn't help it either. Like my mom's smile, I just had to do it too. It was something everyone did in a situation like this. The Overseer was on the fringe of the slope's horizon, and he looked back at us anxiously. I knew that he was just as incredibly confused, yet excited as everyone else was.

I saw him reach the top. I saw him grind to a halt, almost reluctantly. And as each person reached that spot, I saw them do the same. Their faces were hidden from me; all of them were simply staring. Quickly, I ran up to the top to catch a glimpse of the world before it was blocked out by Vault 123 jumpsuits. I rounded the crest of the hill, and bravely faced what everyone was looking at, my eyes ablaze with curiosity. But I also stopped. And stared. Eventually, I cried.

We were on a mountain, that much was clear. The rocky face of it was what we were standing on, and it continued down a sheer vertical drop. From this high vantage point we could see everything around us, the trees having fallen back from the unfertile stone. Now, I wished that the sight _had_ been blocked by all those jumpsuits. It wasn't pretty.

It was dead.

For miles around, all the way to the planet's horizon, I saw nothing but brown. Some grey too, but mostly brown. Bland, consistent, depressing; _dead_. It was nothing like the wonderful green canopies of what I would come to know as West Suffield Mountain. It was nothing like the colorful illustrations in all those books I'd read in my 14 years of Vault living. It was nothing like what I had pictured in my mind since the subject of leaving that bunker had come up in science class. It was pretty much nothing at all.

I suddenly felt alone. My mother's smile was gone, a teary scowl in it's place. Slowly, everyone around me turned and walked back down the hill. I didn't need to ask where they were going, the answer was obvious, and I would've gone with them had I not seen the Overseer. He had sat down on a boulder cross-legged, gazing with the eyes of a man thirty years older than him, and Anthony Krakaeur was still pretty old.

I forced myself to walk in his direction, to see why he hadn't followed suit with everyone else. When I stood next to him, he hadn't moved a muscle, and indeed stayed still for a couple minutes more. Finally, I mustered up a voluntary cough, and he turned to me with a startled expression. When he'd recognized me, he calmed down and kept staring.

"Jack and Kimberly's son, is it?" he asked nonchalantly. I just sat down, giving indication that the answer was yes. I couldn't really move for some reason, much less speak.

The Overseer nodded sadly and continued to gaze. I was about to leave when he grabbed my shoulder gently and pointed straight ahead. His finger landed on a place that seemed just as brown and lifeless as the rest of the landscape.

"Do you see that little black line cutting across right there?"

Now that I looked, an uneven slash of dark color shot from south to north, way off in the distance. I looked at the man and nodded my understanding. He swallowed and continued.

"That's supposed to be the Connecticut River," he pointed out. _A river? Like water? I didn't think there was any out here._ Before I could ask questions, he directed me to another location just west of the river.

"That there is an airport. Big flying planes would carry loads of people all over the world, wherever they wanted to go, as long as they could pay." It just looked like a grey dot next to a black scribbled line to me. But the Overseer seemed to know what he was talking about.

"South that way is a big city called Hartford." Indeed, there was a tower or two rising from a pile of rubble that way. Now he pointed in the opposite direction.

"North that way is a slightly smaller city called Springfield." It looked like a clone of Hartford, but closer. He kept showing me these landmarks that I had no idea of, but each one gave me a better feel for this weird world. Slowly, I made a map with my mind. I could see the Connecticut River flowing past the airport and Suffield Academy. Point Mountain joined with our mountain and continued into a territory called Massachusetts. Bridges in Windsor connected to roads in Enfield, which in turn led to Longmeadow and Springfield. With just this little bit of information, the world opened up. Boston was on an island far northeast and New York City was on another island to the south. I asked Mr. Krakauer if all cities were on islands and he chuckled a reply.

"Most people go where the water is. With water not only comes drink, but food and transportation. I don't know how it is now, but that's what I was told when I was a boy."  
"Is this how you were told the world would be?" I pushed, but instantly regretted it. He stayed silent. That alone gave me the answer, but he still ventured to tell me:

"I was told of a wonderful world filled with many people and cultures. Basically, the same thing that you were told, only our teachers still insisted on following the rules of Vault-Tec, which limited the learning experience a bit."

At that, he simply stood up, took one last look at Connecticut, and stumbled down the hill. I had nothing else to do but follow, since even Jessie and my mother went on without me. Only a couple of elderly folk were still standing there, hugging each other, as if they'd really seen the world before and couldn't stand this new one. I felt like talking to them, but thought better of it, and jogged after Mr. Krakauer.

**June 6, 2283 – 12:06 pm**

"Hey, I found a body!"  
Those words cut through me like a chainsaw as I entered the canyon, where all of my neighbors had gathered once again. I instantly ran to the voice, one Father Helms, the Vault chaplain, to make sure it wasn't anyone I knew. Jessie and my mom were still standing, thankfully, and the Overseer was right behind me. I didn't know the person. In fact, no one knew this skeleton that lay in a cave beside the Vault door. He was dressed as a priest and was surrounded by packages, bottles, and books.

Father Helms had a miserable look on his face, and knelt down to pray for whoever this soul happened to be. Officer Matheson knelt down too, but instead of praying he dug his hand into the dead man's shirt and ripped off a tag. After reading it to himself, he held it up to the audience and repeated aloud:

"Lois Robert Goddard. Born October 23, 2177 to Reynar and Leslie Goddard. Vault 123 Chaplain."

To this, Father Helms shot up like a rocket and snatched the tag from the Officer's grasp. He was so fast I barely noticed until the bit of plastic was in his hand.

"You will not defile the sacred body of the dead in that manner!" he shouted in the face of Paul Matheson, who cringed under the spittle that flew from the current Chaplain's mouth. This surprised me, as well as many people, I'm sure, for Paul was not a man who took orders, but gave them. He even less frequently looked scared. I imagine that it was quite a treat for some of the lesser officers who cringed in _his_ presence on a daily basis, those officers who called him Sheriff.

"Father Goddard was the Vault Chaplain until about eighty years ago," Mr. Helms went on, facing away from Paul. "He was our previous Chaplain, Father Sander's, master. He also ran away from the Vault all those years ago, God alone knows how."

Realization dawned on the faces of just about everybody. Father Goddard made it out, but it seems that he didn't make it very far. The fact that he had managed to open the door was incredible, all those stories of previous attempts coming to mind right now.

We weren't sure what to do about this. Should we bury the body? Should we burn it for fear of disease? His living space was littered with stuff, perhaps we could salvage it?

Suddenly, the Overseer stepped ahead and picked up a small black box, about the size of a paperback book, and proceeded to press a button on it after whispering to the Father. Only then did I realize that it was an audio recorder. Crackling emanated from the thing before a weak and wheezing voice started to speak:

_"Tonight is my 100__th__ birthday… I cannot believe I lasted this long – it is obviously God's will. Since I was but twenty-eight, I watched this place grow from a dirty, unlivable wasteland into a clean, beautiful Garden of Eden. That was also God's will. He called me out here, allowed me to see this place, and told me to grow his sacred garden once again. Happily, I obliged. So now, I sit here alone. Without a friend nor wife nor heir to my family name. sigh Sometimes… sometimes I wish I never took those GECKS and left my family. Sometimes I wish I just stayed there."_

Then the whining sound of the empty space in the device took over, and the Overseer shut it off. We all stood there, silent. Father Helms had his head bowed and was whispering something inaudible. Now the picture was coming into focus. We all realized what this was, but no one had the guts to say anything after that. Of course, childhood ignorance broke the mold. Five-year old Margaret Granger piped up a curious little question… one everyone was dying to ask.

"Can we go home now?"


	3. Resolve

**Beware! Graphic descriptions of blood, gore, and similar stuff is rampant in the second half of this chapter. Read only if you're over the age of 13.**

**With school coming back after Holiday vacation, I might not have as much time to write these. Expect a pretty long lull between each chapter. Sorry for any inconvenience!**

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* * *

  
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**June 6, 2283 – 3:48 pm**

It had taken a couple of hours, but the Vault that our Overseer has promised would never open again, was opened again. The giant metal door turned, twisted, and rolled away into the side of the tunnel, open for its residents to see.

We didn't like what was seen.

All the lights were out, except for a bunch of flashing red ones above our heads. We couldn't see very far in until they flashed. Nothing had changed, except the primary power in the Vault had been turned off. I knew that it was probably for good.

Hector Fogarty turned on his flashlight, and the beam cut through the darkness like butter, allowing everyone to see for the most part. One by one, each officer flicked their switches too and the rest of the residents turned on their Pip-Boy lights. With all of them on, we could make our way through perfectly. The little kids under age ten had to stay by their mother or father's sides, without a Pip-Boy to use.

Officer Matheson strode up to the front, recovered from his one-on-one with Father Helms, and faced the crowd once again.

"It looks like we're gonna need any and all engineers here to help fix whatever's going on," he announced conclusively. "Other people with mechanical experience can help also. If you fit that profile, step on up."

At this, at least a dozen or so bodies walked up to the security chief, including Peter Helms and Don Kang, Jessie's father. After all of the men, and one woman, stood before him, Paul nodded approval and led the way to the power core, leaving the rest of us behind. We weren't sure what to do at first, but Mr. Krakauer quickly spoke up with authority.

"Until the mess down at the power core is settled, I want each family to get together separate from the rest of the residents." We did so. I found my mom easily, her teeth shining brighter than anything with the flashlights all around. In no more than two minutes, each family was in their own group, separated from the others as much as possible. The Overseer looked satisfied, and counted our numbers.

"Besides the fifteen that left, it looks like we have everybody," he said.

"But wait!" shouted Stephen Granger, our plumber. "Only thirteen went! Where are the Herberts?"

Everyone went quiet. The Herberts were an older retired couple who lived in a room near the diner. I had never actually met them, but I had seen them before…

"Maybe they both went with the engineers," someone suggested. But Steve countered it.

"No, I checked. Thirteen people, including Paul, went to the core. No more."

"What if they're still outside?" a young man called out. Now I felt sick to my stomach at the realization. The Herberts had been at the mountain ledge and hadn't been seen since.

Everybody started talking at once. It was a wave of noise and slight panic that attacked my eardrums without cease. _Were they killed? Locked out? Are they panicking? Sobbing? Could they have gotten lost? No way! Yes way! How? _It was confusing, and I just stood there, thinking that I was probably the last person to have seen them. Everyone was talking at once for what seemed like forever, but the Overseer had managed to reach an intercom and shouted into it.

"Everybody, quiet down!" They followed his orders obediently, and the volume of his voice helped shut them up also. Anthony continued:

"I don't know where the Herberts are, but if they are still outside, we can go get them. If they went to the core, then there's nothing to worry about."

Everyone had calmed down, but were still shifting nervously, as was I. I couldn't grasp the fact that I was the last to see them. I knew that they were still out there, and I could only imagine what was happening to them.

"Now," the Overseer continued. "Everyone is going to wait here until the mess is sorted out. Should I hear Officer Matheson on this phone…" He held up a walkie-talkie for everyone to see. "… then we will know the extent of the damage."

People started to sit down on the floor, and I eventually followed suit. Soon, all 138 people were sitting, leaning, or napping on the cold titanium. I was bored, and started playing around on my Pip-Boy, which I had installed with a game of Blackjack. It was easy to play with a computer, but I could never find anyone who wanted to play for real, mainly because we could never find any cards.

I was sure that I was about to beat the little microchip that ran my Pip-Boy's memory, when the lights above us flickered and lit on. I heard people groan with relief and a couple of little kids cheered. The Overseer was speaking into his walkie-talkie and had a satisfied look on his face. The engineers had fixed the power station, and we were free to move through the Vault.

Even though they hadn't been told to do so, all of the residents began filing down the hallways to their homes, and Mr. Krakauer let them. All we had left to do, it seemed, was gather a brave rescue party to search for the Herberts. My mom was back in her talkative mood and started rambling:

"Well, it's a good thing those guys know what they're doing. It would've been a disaster without power down here. We might've had to stay outside. What do you think it would be like to live outside? I think it'd be creepy. We wouldn't have houses. At least not right away. And what about food? No Nuka-Colas that's for sure. I'm not sure where we would've stayed or gotten food. What do you think? Do you think we should stay in here? I do."

I was surprised that I was used to her conversations. Any average human being would probably have committed suicide by now. It made me proud that I was stronger than that, and I had to deal with it every day… I still lived with my mother and would continue to until I was out of school.

My thoughts were suddenly scrambled when the lights went out again. My mom instantly stopped talking, and everyone around us was looking up at the ceiling, as if it could tell us what had happened.

"Probably a blown fuse," someone commented bitterly. Then, there was an explosion somewhere in the Vault. It was so loud, even deaf old Grandma Meier heard it. The ground shook, and a pipe fell from above, clanging loud against the floor, and spewing water everywhere. We were lucky it was just the water main, but that was the least of out worries, to use a cliché. A siren, one that no one had heard before, began to wail, also making us cover our ears. The red lights were back on, blinking on and off to the tune of the alarm.

More explosions, and the sound of what might be gunfire. People screamed. Everyone ran back to the Vault door, and I followed them. Somewhere in the chaos, my mom was lost from me. The whole Vault was rushing in the same direction, and most of us didn't know what from. I remember trampling something on the ground, and almost stopped when I realized that I had to keep moving so that I wouldn't be trampled too.

It was absolute pandemonium. We were pushing to get away from something and were running to a door that was locked. I had nothing to go by except the screams and flailing limbs and the gunfire just down the hallway.

**June 6, 2283 – 4:23 pm**

Anthony Krakauer walked casually back to his office, quite prepared to fall into his chair and sleep for a good while. It had been an incredibly long day, and he was surprised that so much excitement could be stored in less than 24 hours.

With the power back on, he could see as well as any other day. If he didn't know better, he'd say that he was just returning from his daily afternoon meeting with the other Vault leaders – Matheson, Helms, and Lee. If he could just reach his armchair he'd not be any trouble for the rest of the week. His family could contest to that.

The Overseer opened the door and peered in… no alarms, no blinking, and no mayhem. He happily strode in and sat at his desk. The leather chair he was in welcomed a short nap, and Anthony was just about to close his eyes. But there was something on his monitor. He opened his lids again and took a closer look at the terminal, not sure what to expect.

THANK YOU FOR CHOOSING VAULT-TEC.

PEST CONTROL SYSTEM NOW ONLINE.

PROCEEDING WITH AGGRESSIVE PEST

ERADICATION IN:

2:08:47 MIN.

WARNING! DO NOT BE INSIDE VAULT DURING THE

DESIGNATED 24-HOUR SYSTEM OPERATION!

THANK YOU AND HAVE A NICE DAY!

Krakauer immediately jumped from his chair and ran back down the hall.

**June 6, 2233 – 4:27 pm**

In just two minutes time, the happy little fantasy that we would be returning to the Vault for good had been literally blasted away. We knew for sure what was happening now. One, because we saw what was causing the problem. Two, the problem was that Officer Fogarty's liver and kidneys were pasted onto the wall behind him. As he fell, several women and girls screamed, drawing the attention if the Sentry-Bot that stood over the body. Helen Fogarty rushed to her husband, who continued to spit up blood, and I imagine that she regretted that decision – her head was shot off.

Far too graphic for any living soul in the vicinity, we all hurried away from the rogue robot, which fired blindly in our direction, shouting some digital language that none of us understood. Though most of the crowd escaped the hallway – and closed the door behind – at least three more people had fallen… me included.

My leg had been badly burned by a haywire laser blast and I lay on the ground, writhing in pain. Two more people were behind me, doing similar things, except one of them was bleeding on the floor. The door was just ahead, but the control was too far away for me to reach and open. I looked back and saw the Sentry-Bot move slowly and silently down the hallway in my direction, like the bad guys in one of those entertainment disc movies.

The man who was bleeding was an officer, and as the droid approached him, he took out his police baton and attempted to strike his attacker, but the stick bounced off of the armor and flew out of his hand. Sensing hostility, the robot opened fire on the helpless man, and I looked away for fear of retching all over myself. When it was done, the Sentry-Bot moved on to the second victim, a middle-aged woman who looked familiar, but it was probably because she went to the same book club every week as my mom.

All the same, I turned away and began to crawl for the door, but out of the corner of my eye I spotted the police baton lying against a pipe to my right. I looked back and realized that the rogue was nearly on top of the woman. I tried to stand up, but a wave of crippling pain overtook me. I could hear the robot charging up its gun, and I braved another attempt to stand on my good leg. Although it hurt tremendously, it was less than the first time, and I hobbled to the fallen officer's weapon.

The bot was coming close to the woman now, its cells charged and ready to fire. I tried to grab the baton, but pain took over my leg again and I fell to the floor with the stick in my hand. I instantly stumbled back to my feet and whirled around to face the evil machine - and I immediately vomited.

The Sentry-Bot had fired upon the woman the moment that I turned to face it. After ten seconds of non-stop discharge, the body barely looked like a human anymore, much less a middle-aged book club member. I continued to throw up onto the floor in front of me, and the Sentry-Bot took notice. I stared at it, as if willing it to leave me alone, but I knew that mind tricks don't work on robots. It continued to roll its way towards me and charge its gun back up.

I don't know what compelled me to do it. My mind probably knew in an instant that I was going to die and that if I didn't do something, this rust-bucket wouldn't be coming with me. It was about five feet away when I decided to jump onto it. I flailed my arms and landed on the thing, so cold to the touch I would've fainted if there hadn't been adrenaline rushing through my veins. The droid was about as surprised as a droid could be, it started firing its gun but couldn't aim for itself. It kinda wished that it could, because it would've made the job a little easier.

As it struggled, I brought up the police baton, flicked the switch that drained this electric gel to the end of it, and brought it down hard into the Sentry-Bot's head. It shook a little and I pushed the stick down farther, knowing that its combat inhibitor was in there somewhere. Finally, the robot visibly sizzled, the inside mechanisms actually blowing apart, and I jumped off just in time for it to implode.

Though the pain in my leg was searing, I stood up facing my enemy, the dreaded SB-006, as it read on its armor. After saying a quick prayer for the Fogartys and the two other residents over the siren, I practically crawled for the door, wanting nothing more than to leave this place. I kept the baton. It made me feel safer after my experience with it, and I knew that when there was an SB-006, there had to be SB-001 through 5 also.


	4. Evince

**June 6, 2283 – 4:41 pm**

The door opened smoothly and let me pass from the horror behind me. I had to find the atrium, which usually wasn't that hard, but also needed to look out for more bots ready to kill me. Luckily, there was no blood in this hallway, and I stumbled over to the diner amidst the sound of distant gunfire.

Inside, several people sat crouched underneath the tables, scared out of their minds. A small girl was crying hard into her mother's shoulder, and Pete Sieher held a hunting rifle down the tunnel to the reactor, from which I could hear plenty of fighting. He turned to me, scoffed at my presence, and focused back on his sentry duty.

"What's going on here?" I simply asked him. But, the guy was unemployed, unmarried, and extremely cranky right now.

"Shut the hell up!" he hissed. "I have no time for your fuckin' questions. Either grab a gun, or hide in the corner like the coward you are."

It was pretty strong talk from a guy who actually failed his GOAT, became a trash collector, and then was fired. He had never even held a gun before. I replied by turning out the police baton. Sneering, he took one look at it and giggled.

"And what the hell is _that_ gonna do, asswipe?"

_You'd be surprised, loser._ The thug just turned back to watch. I had no idea why he wouldn't go down there to help the screaming people, besides the fact that he was a total wimp. For all he knew, his drunken sister was down there.

_For all I know, Jessie or Mom is down there._ That was the thought that kicked my mind back into focus. I immediately rushed down the hallway, actually surprising Pete, and took cover behind the wall. Being the moron that he was, Seiher followed, whispering threats behind me: "You're an idiot. You'll lead them to us. You don't even have a good weapon. Your whole family is a bunch of nuts. Why can't you - "

I hit him… with the baton. He fell back on the ground, stunned, and I swiped his rifle. At least he was right about one thing – I needed a better weapon. But almost at once, he was back on his feet and he pulled out a 10mm, aimed at my head. Cocking it, he smirked sinisterly.

"I been waiting long time for this, you ass." I wanted to hit him again, but knew he wouldn't hesitate to shoot me.

"What did I ever do? You're just a futureless son of a bitch, taking it out on me."

"Yeah, well, you don't need to have leadership or nothin' to survive outside. That much I could tell… It's too bad you won't get to experience that too."

He pointed the gun at my head and I braced for the shot. _I just survived a fight with a Sentry-Bot, and here I am about to die at the hands of a loser._

I heard a bang. Then I heard another, and another. Pete swore loudly and started firing in a different direction. I opened my eyes to see him shooting down the hallway to the reactor, and there were plenty of bullets coming back at him. He inched back towards the diner, but never thought to take cover, and eventually he fell. I stayed at the side of the door, waiting for the robot to pass by, which it did. I don't know why it didn't see me, hugging the wall in absolute fearful anticipation. But it drove on towards Pete's body, back turned to me.

Hell, this was the opportunity of the day. I raised the rifle high, pointing at the slightly exposed battery in the back, and shot it at least five times. The kick wasn't strong, so I held it firm against my shoulder, striking the battery over and over again. Like its friend, this one imploded.

I didn't even look back at Pete's lifeless face as I ran down the stairs to the reactor level.

**June 6, 2283 – 4:50 pm**

Running down the steps, I caught Father Helm holding a bible, singing psalms to himself, the grey-streaks in his hair showing even more than ever before. Two desks piled on top of one another protected him, but even as I passed by, he didn't acknowledge me. So, I continued on.

I had only been to the reactor room once, on a class field trip (if you could call it that), but I had remembered it as a sterile room with a huge power core in the middle. Mr. Nikitin had told us of their pursuit to conserve the energy from this machine, so that we could use it longer and without many problems.

It was working now, but the area around it was chaos. Several of the engineers who came to work down here lay dead all around. From a small door on the far side of the room, an endless supply of Sentry-Bots crawled out, guns blazing. Closer to the computer room, Officer Matheson and many of those who came with him hid behind stacks of supply crates, returning fire.

I hid behind a smaller crate, but none of the guns were aimed at me. Thus, I began firing from there. The robots were focused on the engineers, so they didn't expect me. Even so, it took at least a dozen shots with the rifle to put one down. After I felled three, I noticed I was running low on ammo.

Swearing to myself, I stopped shooting and watched the fight. The bots were slowly converging on the fighters, and I was in the middle of the gunfire. One of the engineers held a police baton up, pressed the button, and threw it. It impaled a Sentry-Bot, sending a slight shock through it, but continued on and nearly blew its attacker to bits. When I saw this, I had a brilliant idea. Taking out my police baton, I removed the canister of electric gel that was inside it. Then I took out the rounds from the rifle and placed them on the floor. No one was shooting at me, so I had time for this.

I picked up each individual round and squeezed some gel onto the tips. I only had thirty of so bullets, so it didn't take long to "electrify" them all, and stick them into the rifle. Hopefully, if the plan went well, I'd only need to shoot a couple of times at each robot.

I aimed, cocked the gun, and shot at the nearest rogue. The round went straight through the armor, and the Sentry-Bot just stopped, looking confused… for a droid. Suddenly, it started shaking, its insides exploding loudly so even the engineers heard it over their gunshots. They almost stopped to watch, but the other bots were still firing at them. My victim quickly stopped moving, its armor deformed and its lights out. There was fire licking the edges of a hole, obviously marking it as dead.

Having only taken one shot, I killed a total of ten more droids, some with two rounds, leaving me with seventeen more in my gun. Matheson finally spotted me, and signaled me from behind his cover. Before long, I saw him, and waved back in acknowledgment. I had to be careful though – some of the Sentry-Bots realized I was actually there and were discharging their lasers in my direction. When I'd taken care of a couple of these, I turned back to the chief, who held up a little green and yellow sphere.

Now, I knew what they were. We had learned about grenades and their use in history class, but I never thought that there were any down in the Vault. Apparently, the security had some in stock, and Matheson had one on him.

I couldn't hear him over the noise, but he pointed to the grenade, and then the little hole where all the dangerous automations were pouring out. He did this several times until I nodded in understanding. I knew what he expected me to do, and it actually made sense.

When there was a cease-fire for a fraction of a second, the chief rolled the weapon over to me, bumping lightly against my thigh, innocent as far as the unwary knew. After terminating a rogue that got too close, I carefully picked up the weapon, marveling at the simple design, wondering why it took so long for man to think of, and why it was even created in the first place.

My last question was answered when a laser blast zoomed past, almost scorching the nose off of my face. I ducked immediately as more of them whizzed by overhead. Grabbing my rifle, my body seemed to instinctively aim and pull the trigger, the bullet burying itself in my enemy's "head," burning its inner workings to a crisp. Suddenly, the grenade was back in my hand, and I was running at the source of the evil machines.

I wasn't even thinking. It was like when I killed that first one; all instincts went into overdrive as my body pumped adrenaline into my veins. Such a useful tool, adrenaline. It allows you to do things you would never do otherwise… like what I was doing now.

All the Sentry-Bots turned their attention to me at that moment, unfortunately, but the engineers were still shooting, so many went down before they could discharge their lasers. Even so, I had to dodge a great number of bursts, and one even hit me in my left arm. Good thing I was a righty, or I wouldn't have been able to bite the metal bit off and throw the explosive right into the small door.

I threw myself to the side of the hole and soon enough, the fire erupted out along with several pieces of what was now scrap metal. I expected to get shot now that I was on the ground, but after the dust cleared, I heard no more. Sitting up, dizzy and disoriented, I looked around at the carnage of the reactor room. All of the Sentry-Bots stood idle, aiming their guns at me but not firing. I realized that I was laying on the body of old Mr. Bogle and jumped off in an instant.

The walls were smeared with blood and the floors with oil. I found myself among several bodies, but I did not know them, thank God. Officer Matheson and the remaining engineers rushed over to me, grabbing me by the hand and lifting me to my feet.

"Good God, boy!" the chief congratulated me. "That was the best display of ridiculously outmatched fighting I've ever seen!" The other guys spoke up as well.

"You are the bravest young man in this Vault!"

"I can't believe anyone would have the balls to do that."

"And how you electrified your shots? Genius!"

I didn't speak, just staring ahead in a dazed way, barely acknowledging the compliments, but basking in them at the same time. My eyes wandered and landed on Grandpa Bogle's body again. He had to be one of at least eight on the floor, except he had someone standing over him. Joey Bogle stood over his grandfather, closing the blank eyes with his fingers and whispering a prayer. He had learned all his mechanical skills from the old man, and had been exempt from taking his GOAT ever since he'd helped fix the worst pipe leak the vault had ever seen when he was ten years old. Now he was here, saying goodbye to his teacher.

I wanted to say something when he came back and congratulated me with the rest of the engineers, but I didn't. I just picked up my gun, nodded at the whole group and started up the stairs.

"He's a bit stunned, I think," Matheson murmured as I left. He couldn't have been more right.

**June 6, 2283 – 5:23 pm**

We reached the diner as one, Father Helm having seen us and put his bible away for now, and came upon a makeshift hospital covered in blood and vomit. There were only three doctors: Doc Lee, his assistant Dave Sanders, and Olaf – our Mr. Handy. Dave was just an apprentice, really, and couldn't deal with heavy-duty surgery. Olaf was… a robot. He made mistakes, like cutting in the wrong spot (when he wasn't even supposed to be cutting) and applying anti-addiction shots to burn victims, but Doc Lee was directing him as much as he could. I began to think that no robot was ever good at medicine.

Stumbling past the tables, piled with a few people at once, I felt like crying. I stepped into someone else's gore or barf more than once, and my breakfast felt like it was about to join them on the floor. Then I remembered that my stomach was already empty, and was thankful that it was. The painful sting in your throat as you throw up is positively retched, and I'd rather not have gone through it again.

There were people I knew, too. My teacher, Mr. Nikitin, had an open wound at his hip. Mrs. Cherny, my old nanny, had broken both of her legs. Ms. Tien had a slight cut across her neck and Dave was trying to suppress the flow of blood. And then I passed Pete. His blank face stared up at mine, and a hole was open in his cheek. He still held the gun, and I noticed the fingers were broken, having been clenched in a death grip. I couldn't continue to look at the former bully, so I moved on.

There were at least a dozen people screaming in this room and in the hall outside, so why I happened to hear this one above all others is unknown to me. Maybe it was because I recognized it as someone I knew. Two engineers carried a stretcher in with a girl on it, bleeding from the chest. She was losing consciousness, and couldn't scream anymore. She also happened to be Doc Lee's daughter, Janey.

I was surprised her father hadn't heard her, until I realized he was setting a bone on a man without any painkillers, so Will Heim was screaming his head off.

The escorts just left her on a table to bleed, and all the doctors were busy. I contemplated telling Doc Lee, but he was still working hard on Will's leg. That in my mind, I rushed over to the table and an eye-fluttering Janey. She was shot in the shoulder, in the leg, and a blast had skimmed her waist. She was about to go out, so I quickly examined the wounds.

Her leg wasn't life threatening – it was a lot like the shot I got. I had to get a knife to open her jumpsuit, but the waist injury was just a burn, though it looked extremely painful. Her shoulder, however, was bleeding heavily and might have been making her dizzy with the loss of blood. By this time, she had fainted, and I searched frantically for something to hold the wound. _No cloth, no towels, no clean water!_ I finally picked up the knife again and cut off the entire right arm of my suit, packed it all together, and held it on the lesion.

The blood spurted out faster then and I panicked, thinking that I was killing Janey. I grabbed a bottle of water from Olaf, who passed right by me, and poured it on the wound, washing away the blood. Putting the cloth back on, it slowly stopped gushing, but that didn't change the fact that she had lost a ton of blood. I really had no idea what to do, but I'd seen Doc Lee do things like this. Still holding the wound, I cut off the other arm of my jumpsuit, wrapped it around Janey's shoulder, and tied it together. It stopped bleeding for now, and I congratulated myself for doing it right.

I ran over to Olaf again, who was about to administer some antiseptic to Mr. Nikitin, and asked him for burn cream.

"Would you also like some disinfectant with that, sir?" he questioned while handing me what I asked for.

"Um, yes! I would. And a couple of stimpaks too, please!" I told him.

"Very good sir!"

Hurrying back with my supplies, I almost fell on top of Janey's table, but righted myself before toppling everything. Spreading all the stuff out, I went to work on her other injuries. Antiseptic to the burn, followed by burn cream and soaked in a towel, a stimpak directly to the shoulder, below the wound, and more antiseptic to the light abscess on her leg. She began to groan, so I grabbed another water bottle and tried to feed it to her lips. At first, most of it was just spit back out, but it began to go down as she regained consciousness. After a few minutes, her eyes opened, and she looked around frightened. When she realized where she was and what was happening, she looked up at me and tried to speak, but it only came as a whimper. At least she was alive.

It was now that I realized that Will Heim had stopped screaming. Before I knew it, I heard a sharp gasp behind me, and was pushed to the side. Doctor Alan Lee took my place in front of Janey, looking scared as hell. He went over all her injuries, whispering to her, giving her water and reinforcing what I had done. Janey still couldn't talk very much, only squeaking out inaudible words. I tried to listen to what she was saying, but even the Doc didn't understand. He just kept comforting her in a fatherly way. After a while, she fell asleep.

Doc Lee looked on at her, wiping her face of the grime that had accumulated from the whole ordeal, still whispering to her. Finally, he just looked over at me and smiled sadly.

"Did… did you help her?" he asked me breathlessly. I just nodded, and he did too. "You did a good job, you know. Great first aid."

I watched as he tied up her hair and wiped away some blood, then kissed her lightly on the forehead. In an instant, he spun back to me, all business, and handed me another water bottle.

"If she wakes up, give her this and tell me, okay?"

"Um… Yes, sir," I mumbled.

He patted me on the back. "Thank you for saving my daughter." After that, he just left to examine Will again, and I sat down.

**June 6, 2283 – 5:55 pm**

Once again, that cold titanium door was back open, and everyone was filing out silently. We all gathered back into that little canyon, awaiting word from our Overseer, but for half an hour, we heard nothing as more and more survivors appeared out of thin air. In the end, 27 people died and 64 were actually injured. Our population of 156 had been reduced to 129 due to a stupid malfunction, and now we have retreated back to the ugly, desolate wasteland.

I sat with my mother and Jessie's family. Eventually, Doc Lee and Janey sat next to us, her arm in a sling and her leg on a crutch. It was strange and somewhat painful for her to sit down, I could tell, but at least she could walk a little bit. My mom was engaged in a heated debate with Mrs. Kang about the robots when she crawled over to me and said hello. I gave her a quick hi and looked back down at the ground.

"My dad said you saved me," she said. I couldn't help but look at the bandaged mess on her shoulder.

"Naw," I replied sheepishly. "Your dad was busy and you were bleeding. Anyone could have done it."

"But no one did except you."

I blinked several times in wonder and looked at Janey. She was a short girl, with black shoulder-length hair, and she was close to tears. She would be dead if I hadn't done anything, and she knew it. I looked back at the ground and sighed, not saying a word. She stared at me for a few seconds, then struggled to get up. I dunno if it was out of the goodness of my heart or anything, but I grabbed her hand to steady her, and gave her the crutch.

"I just wanted to say thank you, Daniel." Then she hobbled off to her dad. It was a short conversation, and I somehow expected her to say more. But, I just turned back to doing nothing.

Everyone around me seemed to be crying for some loved one or friend. Thankfully, I didn't lose anyone, but it was the worst feeling right now. I wanted to break down and cry, but my tears were dried up. I wasn't hungry, even though everything I had eaten that day was now splattered against some floor. Thoughts rushed through my head, but I didn't pay attention to them.

Finally, someone saw the Overseer exit carrying a crippled Grandma Meier on his back, and we all turned to his faltering figure. Placing his rider on the ground, he silently stood at the center of attention, his face a couple of decades older, and his eyes the most bloodshot I'd ever seen on a human being. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, as if trying to figure out just what to say to his people after what had happened. Finally, he just looked at the ground, loosed a tear, and announced:

"We're staying here tonight." And he said no more.


	5. Memory

This is my fifth chapter... yay! So, it's all diary entries through a full year. Be prepared for some interesting entries! Chapter 6 will be here momentarily, maybe next month! That's along time, I know, but there's other priorities... ya know. SORRY!

* * *

The following excerpts are of diary entries into Daniel Boone's Pip-Boy, spanning almost a full year from June 6, 2283 to May 15, 2284.

**June 7, 2283**

I decided to make a journal. Or diary, or whatever you wanna call it. Doesn't matter, as long as this stuff is down. If my Pip-Boy's memory gets fried, well that's how the cookie crumbles, right?

I couldn't sleep last night. No one could, really. The kids were crying, the adults were moaning, and my mind was completely messed up with what had happened down in what appears to be my _former_ home. The Overseer announced today that we'd be spending our time up here until further notice, so I'm getting the vibe that we're never going back down.

We pretty much just sat around. Well, Father Helm did something, at least. He wandered around, picking up the flattest rocks he could find, and brought 27 of them back. Got a bunch of people together, wrote the names of the dead on the stones as permanently as they could, and laid them all out in a tiny clearing with no one in it. That was where he held his daily sermon. I didn't attend.

**June 12, 2283**

It's been five days already. I've heard the Overseer talking with the other Vault leaders about what they should do. Matheson is thinking of gathering a group to scavenge what they can from the vault, while Father Helm doesn't want anyone to go back in. The Doc appears neutral, but I saw his brow furrow when Matheson mentioned scavenging. I dunno what they're going to do, but whatever it is, they better do it quick. We've all been hearing weird noises outside the canyon.

**June 16, 2283**

Some other people are getting the idea that we're gonna be out here forever too. They started building some little shacks where there aren't any trees. It's mostly out of some bed sheets and metal from the tunnel. There are about five now, and they're all pretty big, but not enough to house 129 people. Besides, they barely protect us from the elements. It's not like it's rained out here yet, though.

**June 18, 2283**

It's been getting EXTREMELY hot out here. My Pip-Boy says it's about 96 degrees. Haha, definitely a change from the climate-controlled box of a home we once had. I guess it's a good thing I ripped off the arms of my jumpsuit, it's keeping me cool out here. Several other people got the same idea.

It's been a week and two days, by my count. I'm setting a timer and will stop it when we go back into the Vault. Who knows, I might just keep it going 'til I die.

Officer Matheson finally got the okay to get a group together, I guess. Either that, or he's acting out against the Overseer. Either way, he told everyone he needs ten people to come in with him in a couple of days. No more, no less. After a dinner of canned asparagus (ew), he came to me and told me he's recommending me to the team, especially after how I did a week ago. I told him I'd think about it.

**June 21, 2283**

Today's the day they go to scavenge. I hadn't gotten back to the chief, so he came to me today, asking again. They go tonight, and should be back by the morning, so he said I'd need to get some extra sleep during the day if I accept.

I don't know if it was the right choice, but I did. I didn't tell my mom. I won't until we get set to leave, because I know she'd fight to the death to keep me here.

…

We're getting ready to go. They gave me a small armored security outfit with a helmet, and it all came with a hunting rifle. My mom's extremely worried, but isn't stopping me, like I thought she would. Matheson is calling us together, so I better go.

**June 22, 2283**

We all came into the Vault together, ten of us. Then, Matheson split us up into twos. I got paired up with Officer Olmstead, a junior cop at the age of 18. Being four years older than me, he naturally took a superior stance, but it wasn't hostile.

We were given the offices to scavenge. That includes the Overseer's office, the security office, and the clinic, all the in same section of the Vault. I didn't envy the guys that got the supply room, since they'd probably find tons of stuff that they wouldn't be able to take right now, even though four guys were assigned there.

We had these oversized backpacks to carry our findings in, and we all had an SOS signal thing downloaded into our Pip-Boys to warn the others of any danger.

Olmstead and I (thats the _correct_ grammar, as Mr. Nikitin often points out) reached the clinic first. There were tons of stimpacks, rad-aways, and other medicines all over. We managed to pack all that we found into our backpacks, and stuffed a few items that weren't fragile between our jumpsuits and armor. Since we'd have to go all the way up the stairs to reach the other offices, we went back to the atrium and carefully piled the medicines right there, leaving a glow-stick with it (we found the glow-sticks in an emergency kit outside the clinic).

Our packs now empty, we traveled up the stairs to the main offices, passing another group along the way, who was charged with scavenging the kitchens. We took the security office first, and found quite a few weapons. A laser pistol, five 10mm, 10 grenades (believe it or not), an assault rifle, 2 hunting rifles, and this really weird thing called a Mesmetron. It was hidden in a floor safe underneath a bed in the security infirmary. Olmstead (his name is Robert) picked the safe open in the light of our Pip-Boys. It took maybe ten minutes. Then out came this clunky thing and some instruction manual, but we couldn't read it, so we stuffed it in with the rest of our crap.

On to the Overseer's office. Outside was a dead body and a fried Sentry-Bot. When I stumbled on it, it scared the hell out of both of us. The room looked plain at first, with the computers still flashing a little warning of some pest removal, but then we just happened to find out that the walls were removable on one side. After we emptied the lockers of a jumpsuit, some ammo, and an unused Pip-Boy, Rob slammed the door. The locker bounced back, hit the wall, and it sounded hollow. So, we hit it with the butts of our rifles and a whole section broke off. Inside were radiation suits, tons of survival kits, and several different books. We also found this dispenser thing, but it was too dark to see what it was.

We took two trips. The first time, our bags were already almost full, but the second time, we managed to fill them up again. When the whole place was cleared, I looked at the computer, but it was password protected, so I left it alone.

All this took at least 8 hours, surprisingly. We took our sweet time. Then, we gathered back in the atrium and left as a group, coming back several times for more stuff. It was dark outside, the early morning at about 4:30. When we got all the stuff out, the door was closed again, and we all went to sleep.

**June 23, 2283**

I just realized that I used up a whole 1% of my Pip-Boy's memory with my journal postings so far, so I'll keep them brief.

The books we found are a bunch of survival books about radiation, disease, and other stuff by Vault-Tec. One of them even tells you how to make houses out of dirt! It's called "adobe" or something like that. The Mesmetron was taken by Officer Matheson and we never saw it again. The little dispenser machine that we found in the wall makes jumpsuits! And you only need a little of the material we found to make them. There's a manual telling how to make different kinds of clothes like waterproofed and fireproofed jumpsuits. We already had one, but it was big and drilled to the floor, while this one is portable. I think they'll last us a while.

**June 30, 2283**

The Overseer deemed the Vault too dangerous to move back into. Apparently, the power's been acting all weird (which makes sense, the lights weren't on when we scavenged), and that the risk of another "accident" is too great. No one was really surprised. We had taken everything we could _out_ of it, and now what were we going to do with it all? Well, turns out people are already thinking to create some sort of village in the forest.

A few people went over to Louis Goddard's place against Father Helm's wishes, and found two GECK boxes. Apparently, there are small cold fusion generators in each one, and two holodisks with a boatload of information on it, mostly Pre-War. It just sticks right into your Pip-Boy and you can read it from there! It was a great find, and the Overseer is saving all of it for later.

**July 4, 2283**

We had spent most of our time after the Incident in the canyon, but people have been moving about outside the gate. They say there are some good level clearings to live on, but everyone else is still a little wary of the world out there. Even so, the Overseer and the Vault leaders agree that we cannot stay inside our little ramshackle huts forever. People are starting to get dirty.

**July 9, 2283**

It rained out here for the first time, and it burned… literally. Mr. Nikitin said it's called "acid rain." It fell onto people's skin and gave them horrible rashes afterwards. Doc Lee says that they could have them for days. I hope it doesn't rain like that too much.

**July 17, 2283**

People have finally accepted being out here, I think. They're tearing down the shacks after Mr. Granger managed to make a couple dozen copies of "How to Build An Adobe House" and gave a small explanation of it in front of everybody. So, now that the shacks are down, and people are exploring outside, there's serious talk to creating some civilization out here.

But, I remember now. Where are the Herberts?

**July 20, 2283**

The Vault leaders have decided on a place to make a settlement. Luckily, it's not in that beautiful canyon that we scared all of the animals out of. It's at the summit of the mountain, in a little clearing without any rocks or nests or anything. There's just a big boulder at the side of the clearing. They decided that they were to build our "adobe" houses here. Being the largest clearing around, it's supposed to have a meeting area (like a church or assembly place), and a few homes. People say that they could use the other clearings to build too, and Mr. K said yes. We're going to make a town!

**July 29, 2283**

It's blazing hot, but we're working hard. It's pretty easy to make the houses, actually, as long as you're not the only one doing it. So far, we made a large one against the boulder that's supposed to be, I dunno, like the town center. We also put up four small houses and the meeting area, which has a bunch of benches in a semi-circle all around the front, like church. Whenever Mr. Krakauer rings this little bell, we come to him there, and he speaks to us about what we should do. It's all running really smoothly.

**August 1, 2283**

I was taking a break from building this house with 6 others, on the rock that we all looked out from that first time out here. But, I saw something strange. There was smoke coming from what the Overseer said was the airport, all trailing to the sky. Then, I heard this noise that sounded like someone screaming in the distance, but only for an instant. Could there really be other people out there? I suppose we're not the only ones that are still around, right?

**August 4, 2283**

We're all done with the houses at the town center. I have to say, roofs are the hardest to make because, well, they're horizontal. Anyways, we're done with that – a big building, a meeting area, and twelve homes for twelve families. We're not included, but it's actually nice to sleep under the stars. The security has been mapping the area when they aren't helping build. They say that three sides of the mountain are pretty much impassable up or down except to the south. There's a little place that you can walk down, from the looks of it, and that if that's the case, they should try make a path. Everyone's a little iffy, but Mr. K. eventually gave 'em the all go.

**August 7, 2283**

We were sleeping last night when one of the guards on duty started shouting and in ran this dirty bearded guy with long hair and wild eyes. All the officers started pointing their guns at him, and he just looked scared. He was babbling nonsense that sounded like "where's your bathroom" and "can I have more please" but that didn't make sense. I'm just speculating. When the Overseer came to meet him, he stopped talking and fell to his knees, almost dying from lack of oxygen 'cause he wouldn't shut up. When the man gathered himself, Mr. K. asked him some questions. He wouldn't really answer any of them. He said he had no name, but that we could call him Bill. Then he just kept saying "I heard y'all a-ringin' and a-shoutin' and I wanted to see."

Matheson locked him up in the big house.

**August 11, 2283**

We were finally given a house. It's smaller 'cause there's just me and my mom, but it's actually very good. The walls have great insulation, keeping the hot out during the day and the wind out during the night. I knew they did this before, but I never helped with it. When a house was built just enough, the electricians work on running wire through the walls to a few light bulbs, all from one of the cold fusion generators in the town hall. Our house has one. Some larger ones have two or three lights. But, it's better than candlelight, and we can change our light bulbs with the town supply. Me and mom had to build our own furniture, though. Right now, we just have mattresses on the ground because mom says that they could get the bed frames out of the Vault. But we made a table out of lumber that they cut out of particular trees. Mr. K. has forbidden the destruction of wildlife on the mountain without his say so, which makes sense. So now, we have a roof over our heads.

**August 23, 2283**

Been about a week since I last wrote in here. "Billo" as everyone calls him gives me the creeps. He sits in this little room in the town hall and just talks all day to no one in particular. I try to ignore him, but he always turns with interest without stopping his constant murmuring. It's a good thing no one else sleeps in there, they'd probably go crazy.

**August 27, 2283**

We're almost done with ALL the buildings. The team that's been making the path to the bottom is making good progress too, and there's shifts. I've only helped with it twice, and there appears to be another smaller canyon running down like a zig-zag all the way to the bottom. It's uneven though, and we're working to make it easier to climb. Billo got up here, so we should too, but they all feel the need to even out the surface with our shovels and pick axes.

**August 30, 2283**

The houses are done, the bottom of the mountain is reached, and Billo is dead. I saw them burying him near the canyon, and they say he died of some sickness. He _was_ coughing a lot.

Anyway, they officially reached the bottom of the mountain, and say that a small team will try to circle its cliffs until they go around full circle. I heard they found some dead bodies near the bottom, but it's just a rumor. Whether or not it's true, they are talking about building a guard tower and gate there to keep out any "hostiles."

Mr. Nikitin has "purchased" a rather large building that really wasn't being used and is converting it into a school so that he can keep the job he actually likes. The Overseer approves of it, saying he wants to keep the values we learned in the vault going out here in this new environment. To me, it just means I have to go back to school again. Bleh.

**September 3, 2283**

The guards built their guard tower and gate, and also let their exploration team go this morning. Officer Matheson told my mom he'd recommend me for a career in security, and she told him that was wonderful, but it was up to me.

Mr. Kang says that if we don't find a reliable source of water, we won't be able to last up here. He proposed at a meeting today to reroute the plumbing from the Vault into the town, so that we could have water, and to make a rain catching module so that we could have more. It's rained at least 6 times since that first storm, and it hasn't been acid, so everyone deemed it okay. Don says that it could take a couple of months, but it'd all be done, and Matheson is using it as an excuse for some more scavenging.

**September 9, 2283**

We came into contact with some real people today. They were armored fellows without helmets or anything and a weird emblem on their chests. It looked like some sort of tower and sparks shooting from the top, or something. They said they were representatives from a settlement not far north from here, and had seen our smoke on the mountain. So, they came to see what the fuss was about. Our front gate guards had almost shot their heads off, but they told them they were friendly and wanted to trade with us, if possible. They were let into town with guns to their backs and the Overseer asked them some questions. I never heard the answers, but they walked freely after that.

Our exploration team came back tonight with no casualties but one had a serious injury. Apparently, there are bears in the area, and they aren't friendly. That's all they'd tell us.

**September 10, 2283**

We were gathered at the meeting place this morning, and the strangers introduced themselves. They were James, Connor, and Darren – three officers from a town called "Stony Knoll" up north. They told our whole village that they were one of about three cities in the area, and that theirs was based around a weather and radio station, which explained the emblem. They had come to explore what we had here and whether or not we were hostile to them. Obviously, we were not, so they proceeded to extending an invitation to trade with their settlement. The Overseer agreed, and the three officers gave him a map of the surrounding area. I have yet to look at it.

**October 1, 2283**

It's been a long time since I'd written in here. Almost a month… so much has happened. Since the Stony Knoll dignitaries came and left, traders have found their way to our town. The first couple we treated with suspicion, but after them we let 'em in if we could confiscate their guns until they left. They happily obliged.

Our guards met a group of hostile people to the east, dressed in revealing black armor and spouting a ton of profanities. They captured one and questioned him. They call themselves the Congregation and live in the town of Suffield, from which I know the mountain was named. He tried to escape, and the guards killed him. Since then, we've had no problems with the Congregation gang.

Mr. Kang and about a dozen plumbers and engineers started doing that thing with the pipes to the Vault. By now, they say they've gotten the main water line in there hooked up with a couple extensions into their own pipes, and are building to trail it up to the town. They're also not closing the door anymore, so that they can go in to get stuff, work on the plumbing, or retrieve the dead. They're all buried under their rocks now, it took a while, but all of them are accounted for except the Herberts.

**October 8, 2283**

We started school late in the year today. It's not bad, really. It's just like old school. Jessie LOVES school, apparently, and goes every single day. Well, everyone does, it's still the rules, but she goes willingly.

The plumbing thing is almost done and they're starting to build a rain catcher that drains into this water purifier from the Vault. The other pipes are going to go in there too, and then the water will go from there to the restrooms (there are about four) and this little bathhouse (with maybe three showers inside).

**October 19, 2283**

Traders came to our town today selling animals, particularly Brahmin. They're these weird brown two-headed cow things that apparently have excellent meat and nutritious milk (but the milk isn't the tastiest thing). The caravan had several with them, and our town bought 3, holding them in this little pen by the town hall. The traders asked us if New Eden was a permanent settlement, and we weren't sure what they were talking about. But, that's what they call our town – New Eden. I think it's a nice name, and so do a lot of people. Tonight, some people are making a sign with the name on it, and are asking to put it up by the guard tower.

Plumbing's done, by the way, and it feels good to shower.

**October 26, 2283**

The Congregation struck after a long time of nothing. They were a small group of pistol armed weirdos pushing a pretty intact car past our gate. When they realized they were being watched, they started firing at our guards, but were dispatched in a matter of minutes. The car is one of only a few I've seen out here. Not that I've left much farther than the gate, but there was one on top of the mountain and a few on the "road" outside the town. This car was in the best condition of any. It was a Chryslus Corvega, with a fission battery in back, and a burned interior. Our guards told one of the Congregation captives to start the car (so they wouldn't have to do it and explode) and the thing actually worked! The raider jumped into the car and tried to drive away, but our guards came up and shot him before it could move. They're keeping the vehicle inside a makeshift "garage" by the gate, and are asking some engineers to work on it.

**October 31, 2283**

I was helping out with Joey Bogle and some engineers with the car when we were met by a different band of traders today coming from a place called Port Bradley, based around the airport! I did see smoke and life down there in August! They were pretty nice guys, like the Stony Knoll representatives, but one of them was kinda suspicious-looking. When we welcomed them, they spoke into this radio thing and out came a caravan loaded with… people. At least it looked like people at first, but a closer look revealed that their skin was nearly peeled off, they had no hair, and their eyes looked like death. They pretty much looked like living corpses.

The suspicious guy spoke up finally and asked our guards if they were interested in a little "cheap labor" because Port Bradley wasn't. I got the idea that instant that the zombie people were servants of some sort for sale… slaves. Thankfully, Matheson told them no, and they went on their way. The Port Bradley guys looked tired of traveling with the slaver, but they just kept walking.

**November 5, 2283**

The car is miraculously in very good working condition. I watched it drive. It didn't go far, because the ground is so suckish, but it's definitely usable. Joey says that they could try and turn it into some sort of "all-terrain battle vehicle," so that it can travel anywhere and shoot anything. So, they're working on that now.

Matheson wants to get some people to travel with the traders to some of the distant cities and gather intel on them before we can trust 'em. I happened to be in the garage at the time, and he asked, but I refused. I liked staying at home, for now. No reason for a fourteen year-old kid to be the pinnacle of an exploration.

**November 11, 2283**

The trading team was sent out with a caravan. They should be going to Port Bradley, then on to Stony Knoll, and back full circle. Estimated time: a week and a half.

There's a lot of gunfire coming from Suffield. At first I thought it was just the Congregation being crazy, but I see a large number of people inside and outside the town. Some sort of battle?

The trees are dying or something. All the leaves are falling off. Mr. Nikitin says it's nothing to worry about, that it's all part of the cycle every year. It makes things ugly, though.

School is still school. We still got homework, even among all these new chores we're doing now out here, but it's not like we have much better to do than something constructive…

**November 24, 2283**

The trading expedition is back, and they made some good deals with the cities. It took longer than usual to get back because the traders made a pit-stop at a place called Congamond Lakes, where these huge crab-things were nesting and hunted. The team said that they were the tastiest yet most dangerous things they'd ever seen, and the traders called them Lurks. It's not far from where we are, just a couple of miles west, and Mr. K wants to use the spot as a hunting zone for our town.

Stony Knoll is, according to the officers who left, a huge city built around a weather station, with great big metal walls all around, and hundreds of people living inside. The leader is a man named Neil Cathaway, and he controls more than just Stony Knoll, but several "provinces" all around the place. He's also got a small army in Suffield right now, which explains the constant gunfire every day.

Port Bradley is the airport, and the airplanes are the houses. It's protected by a brick wall on one side and the Connecticut River on the other. They couldn't explore the city much because the people there didn't trust them.

**December 3, 2283**

Our hunters have started using Congamond as a food source, like the traders. They take the now "all-terrain" Corvega there every week and bring back a bunch of tasty meat. The Overseer is thinking of making an official road to the lake to make it easier and safer for everyone. Basically, clear the way of debris for a couple of miles and make a small trading post at the lakes. Should be done by January.

Stony Knoll has increased interest in our town, and is signing numerous deals with us. Protection, trade, transportation, whatever. Either way, they're showing up more often, and we're not doing bad out here.

**December 25, 2283**

We're celebrating Christmas and the traders don't know what it is. When we explained it to them, they liked it and stayed for the feast. Santa never comes… he's just a tale of Pre-War Earth that the adults liked to tell us about, even in the Vault. But, we give and eat and have a good time for one night.

By now, the road to Congamond is finished and the trading post constructed. Suddenly, with us having made that move, Port Bradley is becoming very nice to us. We're still not accepting slaves, but they tell us that they're not theirs. I don't know whose they are, then.

**January 1, 2284**

Happy New Year! It hasn't gotten cold until now. Huge gusts of wind have been bombarding the mountain for the past few days, and my Pip-Boy says its 40 degrees Farenheit. No one's been trading, or coming out of their house for that matter, for a while now.

**January 13, 2284**

We learned that "President" Neil Cathaway's whole collection of provinces is called Agawam. I dunno why, it seems like a strange name. He finally retreated from Suffield, ending most of the gunfire, but the raiders are hurt bad, many of them dead. Good riddance. But they're still the same old Congregation.

**January 30, 2284**

Mom's birthday! Yay! I gave her a necklace I bought off of a trader for 100 caps. It's still pretty shiny and she loves it!

**February 15, 2284**

Two guys came to our town today. One was old and cranky, the other was young, big, and quiet. The bodyguard had a huge gun, and there was something weird about him. The old guy looked tired and as if he had been through hell, but his buddy was unscratched and seemed perfectly fine. Even his clothes were good. They just sat in Mr. Meier's bar and drank whisky before leaving without a word. One of the traders said he was a Commonwealth guy. I have no idea what that means.

**February 28, 2284**

A big flying thing landed outside of our gate today, rotors spinning and gears turning. When it stopped in an open area, a few guys with guns jumped out and our guards got pretty scared, but it was just some officials from Stony Knoll. Guess who came with them? Neil Cathaway. In a helibird. Now this guy was rich. He met with Mr. Krakauer and talked about things. I'd imagine stuff like how we started, how we're doing, and how we're going to be. But then he left after two hours back to his city. Just tonight, Mr. K. announced he had made a groundbreaking trading deal with Stony Knoll, and that Port Bradley will sign the deal also. I have yet to find out what it is.

**March 12, 2284**

The "deal" that our Overseer made about two weeks ago is now known by everybody, as of today. There is a triangle between Stony Knoll, Port Bradley, and New Eden, and Neil Cathaway wanted to create a road between the three, with guards passing on our Corvega and on foot every six hours, with complete radio capabilities with each city, and a helibird from Port Bradley flying over twice a day. This is ensure the safety and reliability of trading in the area, and the road is called the Three-Town Tread. With all cities working to build it and follow through with their end of the deal, Mr. K. says it should be safe to walk to each city any day of the week in no time.

**March 27, 2284**

They found the Herberts. A trader put their bodies on his wagon and brought them to the gate. I'm glad I didn't see them, but they said that they were both lying at the bottom of the eastern cliff, the one they were standing at that first day. Said that they were nearly decomposed, but wondered if we knew them. So, they buried them in the canyon.

**April 5, 2284**

It's my birthday today! Jessie gave me a comic book called Captain Marvel: Origins. I dunno what it is, but it's the first issue or something. Maybe I can find more of them. It's all about Captain Marvel growing up on his home planet and how he's enlisted into the Galactic Elite Squad, or something. Pretty cool, but I probably would've liked it better when I was 10. Oh well.

Officer Matheson wants me on the force, and said he'd pay whatever "tuition" was needed for training. It took a bit of deciding, and I talked with my mom, but I told him I'd give it a try. He looked very pleased. I start tomorrow morning.

**April 7, 2284**

Janey's birthday. She actually invited me to the party. Can't say I'm surprised, but I got her a cool-looking compass a trader was carrying. She liked it.

**April 28, 2284**

Officer Matheson asked me to help guard the front gate today, and I had nothing to do on a Sunday, so I agreed. It was cool. Got to carry a Chinese assault rifle and point it at a wastelander. My partner, Officer Tymony, actually encouraged me to pull the trigger, but I said no. He was just joking, of course.

Training is mostly shooting practice, lots of push-ups, sit-ups, and jumping jacks morning, noon, and night, learning some room-clearing maneuvers, and watching the front gate with the real guards. Apparently, I'm doing well. There's only four kids in with me, and we're all doing good. They need the men, and one girl, anyways. Their names are: Will, Jon, Adam, and Victoria. Just so I remember, haha.

**May 5, 2284**

Matheson says I'm almost done with the basic training. I have a "section test," and it's to help escort a trader to Port Bradley. He told me all about it. Thing is, whatever trader I get, I get – even a slaver. I just need to watch whatever cargo there is, shoot anyone who attacks, and be wary of anyone who comes to trade. He said I also might learn a thing or two from the official bodyguard of the trader. Every caravan has one or two. So, that's in ten days. Yay… I guess.

**May 15, 2284**

Today's the day I go on my week-long trip to Port Bradley… whoppidy doo…

I just got up, so I still don't know who 'm traveling with, but I've gotta say my goodbyes quick, because the schedule states that they'll be here at 7:00 in the morning. I hope they got good protection already, and that the Raiders will be quiet today. But, I probably just jinxed myself. Oh well…


	6. Inculcation

**May 15, 2284 – 6:55 am**

"You be careful now, you hear?"

"I hear ya, I hear ya."

"Just, if anything happens…"

"I love you mom."

"I know you do."

I waved to my mom as I climbed down the mountain – civilians still weren't allowed regular access to the bottom anytime between 10 at night and 8 in the morning. But I wasn't a civilian. I was being escorted to my section test by Chief Matheson, who told me I wasn't the only one starting their test today. Two others would be. I quickly worked out in my head that I was the earliest to get up. Lucky me!

Reaching the bottom of the mountain path, the rocky walls of a canyon all around me, the front gate opened into an area that the guards called "The Dell." Here, two huge rocks protect a garage, a security tower, a shooting range, and a recruit training area. I came down here every day for the last month or so at seven in the morning, working my way through push-ups, jumping jacks, pull-ups, and shooting practices. In the afternoon, we did more technical stuff like weapon maintenance and radios. One hour before school, and two hours after it. The worst month of my life.

We walked through the Dell, the morning guards eying us as we passed, and when we reached the far side I could see people moving through the rocks. Matheson nudged me towards the silhouettes that stood ahead. Even though we were only a few hundred yards away, I still wasn't sure who they were. Traders, obviously. But what kind? Slavers? Druggists? Mercenaries?

As we neared, leaving the Dell and it's guards behind, I realized that the apparent person in charge was a woman in a yellow jumpsuit, but I couldn't see her face. Two Brahmin were reined to a wagon filled to the brim with weapons and armor, while a heavily-clad man sat on top of them, sporting an assault rifle. The closer we walked, the more I could make out. Finally, the woman turned, smiled broadly, and walked towards us. Holding out her hand, she introduced herself.

"Hey there! Name's Providence Harith, but you can call me Harri. I never liked my name."

She was definitely a morning person. As I shook her hand, I couldn't help but notice she was very pretty, no older than 25. Wearing a bright yellow mechanic suit and a red baseball cap, she appeared to think that you couldn't have enough weapons. Two 10mm pistols sat at her waist below a series of knives and a police baton. On her back were a Chinese Assault Rifle, a Laser Rifle, and a Hunting Rifle. Also, hanging from her chest pockets, were at least 6 grenades ready to be pulled and thrown without a second thought. This was one dangerous woman.

She smiled kind of strange for some reason, but then I remembered that I hadn't said anything.

"I'm, uh, Daniel. Daniel Bone," I stuttered.

"Well, nice to meet you Daniel," she said, then turned to the Chief. "Is he all I'm bringing?"

He put his hand on my shoulder before answering. "Indeed he is. I don't think he'll be much trouble. Two colleagues will be following him within the day, so if he falls unconscious, they can pick him up."

He laughed at his little joke until he noticed that Harri wasn't laughing, but had a stern look on her face. I could tell that it wasn't a funny joke. Of course, Matheson had only gone hunting once, and they came back with but a small amount of Mirelurk that time, so he had never been deep into the Wasteland before. The officers that did either didn't come back, or returned as different men.

Clearly uncomfortable, the chief absent-mindedly patted my back until he got something through his head and addressed me.

"Danny, don't cause any trouble for Ms. Harith here. She's got enough to deal with, I'm sure. Just help her out with anything she asks and try to make this a learning experience."

"Oh, he'll be learning stuff alright," Harri spoke up. "Isn't that right, Kooza?"

The merc on the wagon looked up from the gun he was cleaning, and responded with a French accent. "Oh, yeah. He is sure to be learning some good stuff with us."

"Well OK, then. We're all set. How about you Danny?"

I looked at the wagon and back at Harri. "Um, sure. Anything that I really need?"

On my back was a tiny backpack that carried maybe 200 caps, a fission battery for my Pip-Boy, a notebook and pen, a bag of grizzly nuts, one change of clothes, a pistol, and this cool book a crazy trader was selling called _The Wasteland Survival Guide_.

To my question, Harri shook her head. "You got a gun and ammo? That's all you really need." She sighed. "Armor is a luxury unless you're in the business of trying to get yourself killed, no one bothers anyone that isn't wearing clothes, and food is an easy catch with a rifle."

Harri had to have been, and is still today, the most down-to-earth person I've ever met. The "no clothes" thing kinda weirded me out, though. I was hoping **not** to see any naked people on my trip.

She nodded her head to no one in particular, and walked back to the wagon. Once up on the vehicle with Kooza, she looked at me and motioned for me to come. Before I could leave, Chief had one more thing to say.

"Victoria will be coming up 6 hours behind you, followed by Jon. I wouldn't be surprised if you met them in the cities, so keep an eye out."

"I will," I replied.

He blinked at the surrounding wasteland. "Alright. I'll see you in a week or so."

And with that, he walked back to the Dell, past the gate, and up the mountain. As Harri's wagon inched away from my home, past the potato fields, I could see his figure slowly moving up that incline. And then, we moved past a large boulder, and I couldn't see the mountain anymore.

* * *

**May 15, 2284 – 8:18 am**

_Boulder, boulder, tree, car, boulder, tree, tree, robot, car, shack, boulder, crater, boulder, fence, truck, building, tent, fence, mole rat, tree, tree, shack, dead yao guai…_

Surveying the endless wastes was hard and rather boring work. The only thing that made it cool were these high-tech binoculars that Harri gave me.

She said, "This first day, your job is to sit up there and look at the landscape with these." She had handed me the binoculars, this big military-issue device with night vision and some automatic targeting thing. Once I was finished marveling it, Harri continued.

"Be on the lookout for anything that might kill you. Raiders, security robots, yao guai, Super Mutants… you ever seen a Super Mutant before?"

I shook my head. I'd heard stories of the giant yellow hominids that scoured the wastes looking for humans to capture or eat. However, I had been graced with the luxury of never seeing one.

Harri nodded her head, reached into a little bag, and pulled out a piece of paper. When she handed it to me, I realized that it was a photograph, and the picture's subject almost made me hurl.

"That's a Mutant Brute," she told me. "Tougher than the recruits, and more mindless than the masters. But, the masters will rip your head off too."

I just shivered and handed the photograph back, then immediately started using the binoculars. I had no intention of running into one of those uglies.

"Good," she just said. "We should be in Port Bradley by the end of the day."

Now, it had been about an hour, and the most I'd seen was the shell of a infantry tank, crushing the remains of a big rig that was transporting it. I thought it looked pretty cool, how something so powerful was destroyed in a matter of seconds. But then, I looked around me, and it came as less of a surprise.

Kooza, the French merc, walked beside the wagon, keeping an eye on the opposite direction that I was, which happened to be west. I watched the east, towards Suffield. Oddly, I'd have thought that Raiders would more likely have come from that direction, so Kooza had what seemed to be the easier side.

We continued along the beaten path, barely talking, minding our own business. I had spotted a few vultures eating the carcass of a Brahmin, and stopped to look at their feasting. It was disgusting, yet intriguing at the same time. I really can't explain it, but I just kept watching them out of wonder. Suddenly…

"Hunters, 12 o'clock," Kooza said loudly. I whirled in that direction, straight down the road. In the distance, three figures trundled along together, all with guns in their hands. I wasn't sure how Kooza knew who they were and what they were doing, so I childishly concluded that his eyes had the same powers as the binoculars.

Harri spoke up, "Alright, let's see what these guys are up to." Within a few minutes, we crossed paths with the hunters, two men and one woman, each carrying a backpack. They smelled like death, but that was just my observation.

"Hi ho!" one of the men exclaimed. "If it isn't a trusty trader here to help."

"I'll only help if I feel compelled to," Harri replied. "So if there's anything you wanna trade, do it fast and smart."

"All we got is some ammo and meat."

"What kinda meat?"

"The best kind."

Harri cocked her head. "No, I mean what animal?"

"I'm not revealing our special hunting area," the hunter defended. Harri and Kooza looked at each other, nodded, and brought up two shotguns to the men's heads. With two simultaneous shots, both where killed instantly, leaving the woman screaming. Kooza quickly aimed his gun and shot her in the chest.

Once I opened my eyes and took my hands from my ears, I started hyperventilating. _They killed them! They just killed them! _"You killed them! Why'd you kill them?!"

"Shut up!" Harri yelled at me, and held up a clear bag filled with a bloody red meat. "Do you know what this is?" she asked grimly. I shook my head.

"It's human flesh…"

I almost barfed when I realized why the hunters smelled like death. They had just been on a killing spree. Harri took out a shovel and dug a small hole before proceeding to dump the meat into it. The hunter's packs were also filled with bones, a liver, and two hearts in little plastic bags. It was placed in with the flesh. When the hole was filled again, Kooza was finished with making a small cross out of two sticks, and he jammed it into the ground. Without a word we continued down the road. The only things we got from that ordeal were a couple of hunting rifles.

* * *

**May 15, 2284 – 11:24 am**

"When surveying the wastes, you really do not have to look for anything in particular. Rather, you should be looking for three movements. The lumbering, heavy kind of movement is usually the most dangerous. That could be Super Mutants or… you'll find out. Then there are those convulsive and volatile kinds. That could be Raiders or Slavers or any hostile men. Or, it could just be an excited friendly. Still, look for it. Lastly, and usually the least dangerous, are the low-to-the-ground, quick but clumsy movements. That's probably ants or rad-scorpions, or mole rats. Look out for the giant variations of the bugs, though. They can slice an arm off."

Kooza was giving me a lesson in my job, and a lot of it helped. Some of it was just unnerving. I wanted to know what he meant by "you'll find out." There were a lot of creatures I had never seen, apparently, but it would do me best if I knew about all of them. I should probably consult the _Wasteland Survival Guide_. It told me all I needed to know to separate the good meat of a mole rat from the bad.

I had been listening for some time. He was grumbling about the dead hunters for a while, and I finally got the nerve to ask him about it. He said that some people didn't have good food resources, and had to resort to drastic measures so that they could survive. He hated those particular people though because he could see that they weren't desperate, they just killed for the taste.

After that, he explained himself briefly. His real name was Cosme, and he was a French refugee. That was all he'd say. After that he began to teach me about the wastes, while Harri added in any tidbits she could.

I still needed to keep an eye on the east, so I would often continue watching while listening to Kooza. I didn't want to be rude, but he understood that doing it was a necessity. After a while, he stopped talking, and I was back to my counting of the objects I saw.

_Boulder, bed frame, burnt house, car, car, tree, nothing, nothing, god there's a lot of nothing out here… tree, truck, fence, building, mailbox, boulder, boulder, crater, bathtub… what the hell is a bathtub doing out there? _

While I was pondering this, the Brahmin started to low. They got distracted and Harri had to pull them back on the road or we would've fallen into a ditch. I eyed them before putting my eyes back to the binoculars… and almost screamed.

It was more of that weird silent scream, where you are doing it at the top of your lungs, but the voice gets caught in your throat. Still, it wasn't silent enough to escape the ears of my two escorts. Harri spun in her seat to catch me pointing ahead of me, a fearful look all over my face. Following my finger, her eyes widened when she spotted it too. A huge demon, complete with reptilian arms, legs, and a tail, it's hands extended with massive claws, and it's head crowned with curly horns, drawing attention away from the bloodstained teeth. I had spotted it too late, though. It was only a few hundred yards from the wagon.

"Deathclaw!" Harri shouted, automatically pulling a grenade and throwing it. Unfortunately, it didn't blow until the monster had stepped over it, and I was dead still in both amazement and fright.

It brought its two gigantic arms over its head, and brought them down over me. I braced for the ripping pain of my head being removed, but instead was "rewarded" with a pull backwards, across the wagon and to the ground on the other side. Kooza stepped over me and brought his lucky shotgun to his shoulder, discharging the thing at least a dozen times before the great beast even noticed. He ducked as the claws sliced the air over his head, and he grabbed my shirt so he could get me out of there.

The Deathclaw was perched on the wagon, crushing some of the guns underneath its weight. I could see Harri underneath it, scrambling to pull out her guns, but the demon wasn't interested in her, it had already seen us.

Kooza made me run for the cover of an old Chryslus while he continued to fire at his target. It expertly jumped from the wagon and landed just ten feet before him, slashing in his direction, but the merc fell on his back. I was scared out of my mind as Kooza and the Deathclaw had a tense staring contest. Apparently, Kooza lost.

The creature roared to the air as if he was already triumphant in his kill. I pulled out my rifle and tried to shoot it's head, but all the bullets grazed right on past. The only one to hit its mark had barely any effect, and it ignored me.

It's eyes, though devoid of color, were full of what I thought might as well be evil. Saliva dripped from its grotesque jaws, begging for the meat that lay before it. Again, it raised its arms high above its head, and for a moment I was reminded of a movie I saw on an entertainment disc from the Vault. It was happy, proud to be a hunter, and would now come in for the kill.

The claws ripped through the air, and I actually heard the oxygen being split apart from the sheer force. I could not watch as Kooza died there, but my eyes remained glued to the scene. Down, down, tearing down, and…

A blast. The Deathclaw exploded into a plume of brown smoke, and Kooza was enveloped by it. I tried to rub the dirt out of my eyes and look again, but suddenly a huge piece of debris landed before me and knocked me back. When I gathered myself and looked up, I saw half of the Deathclaw's head, torn up and gory, its one eye pointed directly at mine. I kicked it away and tried to gather myself. _My gun, my backpack, my body. _It was all there. Confident that I was still alive, I ran to the site of the explosion.

I only thought this happened in movies. The legs of the Deathclaw were still standing up, dug into the ground. Anything above the waist was gone. In the distance, standing on top of the wagon, was Harri armed with Fat Boy and a seriously scared look on her face.

I ran forward, but remembered something and looked down. Kooza sat there, one of the claws of his attacker lodged into his thigh, but he didn't seem to notice it. His eyes stared straight ahead and his entire front side was covered in first degree burns. What I thought was the most unusual was that the hair just above his eyes had turned completely white.

He wasn't dead. After a few seconds, he exhaled and started to cry. I don't know if it was the shock of seeing that thing being blasted to oblivion before his eyes, or the gratefulness that his life had been spared. Whatever the reason, I ran over to him and kneeled at his side.

In no time, Harri was there too, soothing him in French and tending to his leg. When she had stopped the initial bleeding, she looked up at me and nearly fainted. I had to catch her before she landed on Kooza. When she had regained control, she spoke up.

"That shouldn't have happened."

I didn't know what to say. "I… I wasn't watching. It's my fault that -"

"No it's not," the trader interrupted. "Those things are the fastest, most dangerous creatures ever put on earth after the dinosaurs. They… aren't usually in this area. It must've been an outcast."

"What was that thing?" I asked tentatively. I already knew what it was called, but wanted to know more.

She sighed. "A Deathclaw." Even its name was horrifying to think of. "They are, simply, a mistake of nature. I heard once that they were once soldiers who took a modified government experiment to grow stronger, and were then exposed to extreme radiation. But, they can reproduce, so I'm not so sure."

That told me a lot, but I'd have to consult the _Guide_. Together, we both carefully lifted Kooza in a chair-lift, and settled him on the wagon. Already, his wound was becoming infected, a strange pus beginning to crawl around his bandages. Harri noticed this, and began to frantically gather her fallen supplies.

"We need to get to a hospital **now**," she said fiercely. It was about 1:30 in the afternoon, and we were supposed to arrive in Port Bradley at the end of the day. I wondered how we would make it before Kooza's leg reached the amputation point, short of booking it all the way there, ignoring all the things along the way.

As if to answer my question, "We'll need to go past all the villages along the road, not stopping for anything. Bradley has a great clinic, and they'll take care of him."

Kooza had fallen unconscious now, his brow furrowed in restless pain. He had to have fallen into shock, so I grabbed as many clothes and blankets as I could and laid them over him, then lifted his feet onto a box. When Harri was finished grabbing all that she could, she nodded to me and grabbed the reins. I secured myself inside the wagon and we were off. The Brahmin were faster than I expected, and all I had to do was keep Kooza from dying until we got to the city.


	7. Composure

Alright, it's finally here. What happens to Kooza? Well, you'll kinda find out, but I'm not about to kill a good character like I killed Billo. He'll be back. He's just too cool, and has too cool of a name, ya know?

Thanks, to everyone who's loved the story so far. This chapter doesn't have much action in it, but you get some good background into each character's story ('cept Dan's). Hope you like it, Chapter 8 will be out in no time. Haha, just wait until summer time, when these babies will be popping out of my brain and onto the screen every week! So keep reading, keep R&R-ing, and I'll keep doing this. I have to say, I enjoy it. :D

* * *

**May 15, 2284 – 5:42 pm**

The fast-paced ride to Port Bradley was relatively uneventful. I saw a few ramshackle villages along the road, their citizens confused as to why we did not stop, and we met a single Raider who was stupid enough to try and fire on us. Harri immediately held out her shotgun and took his arm off, and we sped away. She used a small radio to talk into while she guided the Brahmin.

There was an area that Harri said was a Super-Mutant stomping ground, so we had to slow down and sneak around a large collection of boulders. Luckily, we didn't see any, but there was a really weird smell all over the area, like something huge had just up and died. Once we were about a half mile away from it, Harri kicked the Brahmin back into gear, and we reached the city in no time.

At first, from a distance, all I could see were a few blobs with smoke rising from them, and it looked like nothing special. But as we drew closer, past an old electrical fence, I could see a great big wall surrounding a collection of metal buildings. Several old jumbo jets sat among them, with signs, electrical wires, and a water tower on top of some of them. Up to the gate we drove, forcing a couple groups of travelers to jump to the side. Once we could actually make out the guards faces, Harri slowed the steers down and trotted up.

Kooza was still unconscious, and his leg was looking really bad. I had liberally applied stimpacks from Harri's seemingly endless supply, but they only slowed down the infection process a little bit. A single guard moved towards us, and I became angry at him for taking his sweet time.

"State your name and business," he commanded flatly.

"Providence Harith, weapons trader."

"Alright," the guard apparently recognized her. "You can come on in."

Once we entered the city and parked the wagon in between two buildings, Harri jumped out and spoke to another guard. I dunno what she said, but next thing I knew, he drew his gun and stood guard over our stuff. Then she grabbed a large piece of cardboard and laid it next to Kooza, so we carried him on it.

Throughout the city, we passed a multitude of people. I heard stories of the cities of old, where you'd never see the same person twice unless you knew them, and they all crowded the streets, getting to where they needed to go. I imagined that this was such a place. We passed at least a hundred different faces on the way to the hospital, and I was simply amazed into a virtual inertia, staring at everybody.

I didn't pay a whole lot of attention to the buildings, or many of my surroundings in fact, because we were rushing through so fast, trying to get Kooza to a doctor. But once we reached the hospital, I took some notice.

The whole building was a small airplane, probably a private jet, with a very large red cross painted on the side. Transparent boxes with med kits inside were piled up high just outside the door, and the only way in was up a set of fold-out stairs. Here, we carried in Kooza, who was starting to wake amongst all the noise and movement.

"What's going on?" he murmured. Then, he started to shout. "Oh my god! It hurts! It hurts! What's going on?!"

Harri stayed silent and grim as he screamed, so I followed her example and tried to stay quiet. The uproar that Kooza made as we ran into the hospital aroused a doctor and assistant from a nearby room, both frantically grabbing our makeshift stretcher and ushering everyone into an area with an operating table.

Now, I noticed that Kooza's entire left thigh was infected and swollen. It looked like his leg wasn't his own, but some other monster's. Luckily, the doctor seemed to know what he was doing, smoothly navigating between his utensils and his patient. First to go in was some special novacain. It must've been special, because in about a minute, Kooza calmed down and simply whimpered. Confident that he could continue, the doctor picked up a scalpel, dipped it into a cup of alcohol that the nurse was holding, and began cutting around the claw, and the most infected area.

Suddenly, Kooza's eyes bugged out of his head like some old cartoon, and through his open mouth he loosed a scream so loud, everyone but the doctor had to cover their ears. Blood spurted from his already bloody leg, into a fountain that just fell back into itself.

"Lemme go, you fuckin' bastard! I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die yet!!" Over his deathly rampage, Harri grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me out of the hospital.

Even outside, among all the pedestrians, I could hear him. Some people even stopped to try and see what was going on through that door. Harri and I were the only ones who really knew, and our knowledge made us somber as their unawareness made them curious.

* * *

**May 15, 2284 - 6:12 pm**

Together, we walked back to the caravan silently, where our guard was still standing, keeping the supplies safe.

"You can go now, thank you," Harri told him, but he just looked at her with a cocked eye. She sighed, flipping him a Quantum cap, after which he finally nodded and left.

Then she turned to me, "We need to find a good hotel. There are a few of them around here, but we need a cheap one-nighter."

I had not the foggiest what a hotel was, but I played along. Taking the Brahmin to a pen, and the supplies to a guarded storage area, I finally got to see the city itself.

Planes, all around, was what it pretty much was. Planes and shacks. The smaller ones were important buildings, like the hospital, along with a large restaurant, a main supply center, a water purification plant, and a building whose sign read "Agawam Military Recruiter and Shop: Outpost 6." Larger planes were host to an XXX club, a library, an orphanage, and a science research center.

The shacks were mostly homes, and they ranged from the average hillbilly tin can to the two-story apartment complex. Many of these buildings were awfully shabby, but built sturdy like the planes. People walked out of huts dressed in business suits and dresses, as if they were the "impoverished third world citizens" that you'll sometimes read about in Pre-War textbooks, though they had an air that assumed them as a much higher class.

I saw all this as we walked to the center of the city. Being nighttime, all the neon lights burned brightly, advertising Nuka-Cola and Cram and a Cabaret. One sign read something in Korean, and I couldn't understand it in the slightest.

Harri led me to a large shack named "The Founder's Inn," whose sign hung from one chain, so it spun around in the wind making the words almost illegible. As we opened the door, something fell off, and I half-expected the building to collapse. Luckily, it didn't.

The rusted metal door nearly slammed back in my face as we trudged inside the inn, distracting me from following Harri. The whole building was filled with people. Dirty people. With guns and knives. A drunk man danced on a moldy wooden table while a fight broke out in the far corner over a pint. In all the hubbub, I misplaced my trading host.

I searched the place frantically with my eyes, analyzing the crowd of ruffians, keeping my eye out for a yellow jumpsuit. When I found none, I got scared, and dove headfirst into the mass, bumping into more than one mean-eyed mercenary or hunter. Each one snarled at me like I was the scum of the earth, not the other way around, and with nothing more than my switchblade on me right then, I was seriously doubting that I could take all of these guys.

Finally, a bright flash caught my eye, drawing me to the front bar, where Harri spoke with a pot-bellied mustachioed man while she drank a whiskey. As I drew closer, I could hear them talking about a two-bedded room for the night, but the man insisted they get two single-bedded rooms.

"But that's more expensive, you idiot," Harri told him. "I said I want your two-bed room, or I'll have _no_ business."

The man didn't even hesitate when she hinted at leaving. "Now hold on a minute! Let's not get hasty. I'll check for your room if I must."

"Thank you," Harri replied, then as he left, "Asshole." Then she noticed me.

"Hey! I forgot all about you." She paused to analyze my face. "You holding up okay?"

I sighed. "I hate the world now." To this, she simply laughed and took another swig of her whiskey before burping softly. The whole tavern was filled with those kinds of noises, except most of them weren't from self-employed women.

Now, the man had come back and groaned until words started to come out.

"Ooooohhhh… I got one room in building 2 for you. Just next door. It's at the top of the stairs on the right." Then he handed Harri the keys. "Enjoy your accommodations."

Yeah, right, said his guest's face, but the keys were taken anyways and we both walked out the door.

Next to the main building was a smaller, more ramshackle building with few windows. Blood stains poured from a large hole near the door, implying enough. It wasn't exactly a safe place. But the door was opened, the creaking stairs were climbed, and our room was settled into. Harri got the bed near the window while mine was closest to the door, so I'd die before her, or something.

As I got out my clothes and laid them on top of the bed, her voice rang.

"Sooooo…" she started, as if she didn't know what to say to this 14-year old boy who shared her room. "Uh, so – don't you have any questions about trading? Living out in the wasteland? Et cetera?"

"Not really," I responded while shrugging my shoulders. I was too busy getting the image of Kooza's leg out of my head to think about questions.

"None at all? You don't wanna know anything about what I do?" She seemed like she really wanted to answer something, to talk to someone about normal stuff after what happened today. It was only now I realized that she was trembling.

My book didn't _need_ to be out of the pack right now. So, I put it back and thought. I needed a question that would get a lot of information out of her and was too cliché _not_ to answer.

"Why and how did you become a trader?"

Harri rested her head on her backpack, which acted as a pillow, and bit her cheek. I didn't think that it was something she had to really think about, but quickly assumed she had some built up memories. I was right.

"My dad was a trader down south, selling weapons and ammo like I do now. We lived in a little town called Canterbury Commons with a few other people… well, at least I did. He was always off in the wasteland, selling his stuff to everyone he met. He was good at bartering, and always walked away with less guns and more caps. The people called him Lucky, and in true "generation-passing" fashion, he named me Providence.

"Anyways, while he was away meeting all these cool people, I was stuck inside our apartment in a town filled with freaks. Believe me, there were some wackos around town."

I imagined what Canterbury Commons must've looked like. A street, some houses, an apartment building. Maybe some retards stumbling around and feeling themselves. I didn't know what Harri meant by "wackos" but I assumed that the town must've accepted mentally ill people. She continued.

"I always kinda wanted to go with him, ya know? To see the other towns, meet other people, and make myself known. I never met anyone really cool until I was a teenager. He was this Vault guy, like you only older, and he was traveling with a dog and some Ghoul mercenary. Just the way he walked into town, like he knew what he was doing more than anyone. Of course, he ran into the wackos I mentioned, and eventually took the head off of one of them, but that's besides the point. Even when it was just him, Mayor Roe kept me inside at all times whenever there were visitors. It guess my dad told him to do it, but I didn't know why he would. I never met anyone, just watched them. Watched the guy come, invest in my daddy's business, and leave. A few months later, he took down the Enclave, made the Potomac's water clean, and died from extreme radiation poisoning. I never talked to the guy."

"What was his name?" I asked hopefully.

"I dunno. They called him the Wanderer, because he never told anyone his name. Smart move for someone who had such an impact on the area."

_Wanderer, Wanderer. Where had I heard that before?_

"But, once I was fourteen, and the Capital Wasteland was actually on the right track for once, my daddy took me out on a trading run. Best and most eye-opening week of my life. It's kinda like what you're doing now, coming with me, 'cept it was my choice. I immediately said yes.

"After that, things fell into line. The Super Mutants died out, and with the city under the control of the Brotherhood, people started focusing on growing out. Megaton must be at least three times its old size by now, Rivet City has the responsibility of the water purifier and the Mall, and this old dude who ran a place called Tenpenny Tower was assassinated, so some Ghouls took the place over. Not the best outcome for the residents, but they were peaceful from then on out."

I was transfixed on her story so much, I hadn't noticed that a rat had crawled onto my jumpsuit, and started nibbling on one of the straps. As soon as there was pain, I shook it off and the rodent went soaring into a wall, never to rise again. Harri just kinda stared at it, then continued her story with a bit of a smirk on her face.

"Pretty soon, things got boring. Only interesting thing that ever happened before I turned eighteen was that these oak trees started growing in from the north. But that was it. I grew up, started trading by myself, and lived okay. Then, the local radio station guy, Three Dog, told us to turn our dials to this new radio frequency. When I did it, I picked up Eyewitness Connecticut, and the world just opened up. In time, the Brotherhood let everyone know of the existence of a country up north called Agawam, which I'm sure you know, and with the radio frequency, I could get updated on whatever was happening in a whole 'nother part of the world!"

"What's Eyewitness Connectict?" I interrupted. Harri looked at me confused.

"You're serious?" I nodded. I had no idea what it was. She answered my question, albeit a little weirded out.

"Eyewitness Connecticut is the radio station at Stony Knoll. Matt Olmstead, or Matty, runs the whole thing, giving news, tips, music. Since Stony Knoll was a weather station, he even gives info on the weather sometimes, that is, if it's unusual. It's really pretty cool. Should be on your Pip-Boy if you look."

I scanned my Pip-Boy for any open radio stations, and surprisingly, one called "EYEWITNESS320" was glowing on my dashboard. I'd never seen it before. Touching it with my finger, the little machine automatically connected with the frequency, and a loud voice sprung from its speakers.

_"…increased violence up there downtown. Super Mutants, slavers, Academy forces, you name it. Thusly, a word of advice: Stay away from downtown. Enough crazy shit happens _outside_ of the city. I'm pretty sure that most of you don't want triple the amount of that shit."_

"That's him," Harri said. "Matty Olmstead, spreading the word. Much more civilized than Three Dog, though I think he's wrapped up in a little red tape."

She got up, grabbed her gun, the rental keys from the storage place, and started for the door.

I called, "Wait! You never finished answering my question."

"Oh right." She kinda stood there awkwardly, one had on the door and the other on her hip, as if she really wanted to go instead of babysitting this kid. "Well, long story short, I grew up, got curious, and came on up here to see what's what. Now, I run my own merchandising business out of the sand. How's that for lucky, huh?"

Turning around, she exited, and closed the door behind her. I was about to turn the radio back on, when it opened again, Harri's face staring back at me.

"By the way, I'm just heading back to the hospital to give the doctor our location in case something happens. Chou." And finally, she was gone.

"EYEWITNESS320" still gleamed on my screen, and pushing it resulted in another blast of Matty's voice.

_"… best place to stop off at when you're in the ass-end of nowhere by Enfield. Food, shelter, and protection. Three good things, they'll give it to you free for no more than a few days. Sounds good, eh?_

_"Now, it's getting late. You'll be hearing my recordings over and over again for the next 9 hours or so. I'll be back on live at 8 in the good 'ole morn. 'Till then, enjoy some music and a bunch of crap you've already heard before, here at Eyewitness Connecticut, a lonely wastelander's best friend. See ya!"_

And with that, the Andrews Sisters started playing. Well, I didn't know it was the Andrews Sisters then… I was told later on. But, their harmonious voices put me right to sleep. Harri must've come back and shut the radio off at some point, but my dreamless slumber was void of everything but music.

_"He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way, he had a boogie style that no one else could play, he was a tough man at his craft… but then his numbers came up, and he was gone with the draft. He's in the army now, a blowin' revelie… he's the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B!"_


	8. Acclimation

I AM BACK! Finally... it's been maybe two months since I'd last submitted a chapter, and I know that some people are at least a little annoyed. :)

Because it's been so long, I made this chapter twice as long as the usual ones. To make up for lost time, I guess. But, now that I've had time to think about the story, I've decided that the readers should be aware of a few things in the story:

1) There is no way that with all the advancement in robotics and mechanics that the people of Fallout Pre-War Earth couldn't make better computers than their dinky terminals. They had AI robots and convincing androids by this time, but couldn't get beyond the black screen box? I'm not gonna change it drastically, but the computers will be a _little_ _bit_ more advanced - Say, late 80s computers instead of early 70s.

2) I will be throwing in little pieces of modern culture into the mix, such as politics and worldly concerns of our own 21st century. There will be wars, and different points of views, but I'll be sure to go beyond the usual American Democrat vs. Republican, liberal vs. conservative crap.

3) There'll be things that happened after the 1950s that actually happened in our world. For instance, I will include the first election of a colored president in the year 2008, but his name won't be Barack Obama. Or, there'll have been a tremendous British comedy group during the seventies that poked fun at religion and history, but they won't be called Monty Python. Although this may not fit with the entire Fallout timeline, I see no mention of any president's names or races on any websites, nor any popular entertainment groups, so I feel it's okay to add them.

4) Lastly, to better understand my view of the Fallout world, I'll be including little "Author's Notes" at the ends that explain some inside jokes and references to today. They should help everyone understand what's going on if you don't catch what I'm trying to get at while you're reading.

But, that's it. So, I hope you like the next chapter. It can get a little slow, but it's mostly to envelop the reader in the world before Danny takes off on some exciting journey or whatnot. Enjoy!

_Disclaimer - I do not own the story of Fallout or any related indica to the game. Nor do I own any of the products, publications, or groups mentioned in this story, even in part. Should these companies sue me, they'll be getting the college savings of high school student, and they'll look incredibly bad. Thank you._

_

* * *

_

**May 16, 2284 – 6:15 am**

_BRRRRRRRIIIIIIIINNNGGGG!!!_

The alarm makes me burst from the bed and land hard on the floor. Rubbing my head, my eyes search for the source while my brain is still asleep. It didn't take long to figure out that it was my Pip-Boy, set to wake me up at least an hour before I usually do on a Saturday morning. Turning it off, I groan and pick myself off of the floor. Suddenly, the little device makes another noise.

DING!

On the screen is a little note marked "For Dan," flashing on and off until I press it. Immediately, the file opens:

_This is the time I get up everyday, Dan. You got five or so more days of this, so you better get used to it. I'm doing some errands and will be selling my wares throughout the city all day. You can just sit back, relax, go sightseeing or something. It IS your first trip – enjoy it as much as the wasteland will allow it. Kooza should be back on his feet by tonight, and we'll wait for him as long as possible. At 7:00 tonight, meet at the harbor with some other traders by a boat named the "Queen Mary 5." I'll be waiting with Kooza and the stuff. Have a nice day._

_Harri_

"Well, that's just great," I told myself. My host is selling stuff without me (though she could probably protect herself well) and I'm stuck in a seedy motel with no money and a little gun.

A little bag I never saw before sat on the side table, and when I opened it, it was filled with caps and another note.

_50 caps, just in case you need some lunch._

Harri was a pretty awesome person.

But I was still tired as hell, and fell back onto the bed, trying to go back to sleep. When my brain wouldn't shut back down, I just turned the radio back on and lay there. A recording of Matty's voice broke the silence.

"…_the one place in all the wasteland, at least that I know of, that actually has trees. New Eden, off in the distance on West Suffield mountain, is the single best vacation spot in the world, as told by a multitude of tourists. The road between there and Stony Knoll isn't tough, the water is some of the purest around, and the forest is filled with all sorts of animals and plants that should be extinct right now. So please, when they tell you not to do something to the wildlife, you better shut up and listen. It's the last place anyone wants to be destroyed. This is a recording. Now, here's a little music._

"Edelweiss" started playing and I took the Pip-Boy off, setting it on the table. It felt good to let my arm breathe, since you're not actually supposed to keep it on overnight. In my backpack sat the little book that I'd been dying to delve into for some time. Now that I was actually out in the wasteland, it seemed proper to read a little about it.

The handbook was heavy, with a great big skull on the front cover. Turning it to the table of contents, I scanned each chapter for what I was looking for. There were three parts, _Survive, Thrive, _and _Revive._ Under each part was a plethora of different chapters, and under these, some subchapters. The particular subchapter I wanted was underneath the _Thrive_ section, chapter _Creatures_. Flipping the pages to that area, I was immediately greeted by a grotesque sight.

A professional sketch of a deathclaw stared up at me from the paper, its milky eyes devoid of emotion and its face pulled into an evil sneer. It raised its arm next to its head, the claws dripping with red blood. Despite the realism, this artist's interpretation was nowhere close to as scary as the real thing. The entry read:

**DEATHCLAW**

_Danger level – ***** (5)_

_This enormous creature is by far one of the most frightening animals to roam the face of the earth. Their amazing agility and strength working together, along with their vicious teeth and absolutely horrifying claws, make for a beast known to most people as a legend. It stands a rough ten feet tall, much taller than an average human, and can usually see you before you see it. If you do happen to notice its presence before it notices yours, your best bet is to turn around and take an alternate route to where you're going. Should you come into combat with one of these creatures, you better hope you have plenty of grenades, or at least a missile launcher. The Deathclaw can run at approximately 15 feet per second, so it can converge on its prey very quickly, ripping it to shreds with no more than two swipes of its claws, brining even the toughest heavily-armed wasteland crusaders to an untimely death._

_The history of the Deathclaw is a cloudy one, as is their behavior patterns. But, thanks to one of my many aides in the Capitol Wasteland, the writer was able to easily interrogate a former Enclave officer, whose pervious employers had frequently used radio-controlled Deathclaws in military operations._

**What are they?**

_Little-known to most wasteland inhabitants is that there are several different types of Deathclaw. The Northeastern Deathclaw and the Californian Deathclaw are much of the same, with distinct reptilian features and the infamous five-fingered claws. Of these two varieties, the male Deathclaw has a slightly longer tail and forward-facing horns, while the female has a shorter tail, backward-facing horns, and more scale protection._

_A third variety, the Midwestern Deathclaw, is a more hairy type than its other brethren, perhaps to adapt to the region's reportedly colder climate. They have less conspicuous back-horns that curl around their heads, and a large "rhino horn" growing from their nasal bridge. It is speculated that this Deathclaw is actually not related to the others, but simply a greatly mutated mammalian creature from Pre-War times. This would not explain their higher intelligence, however; them having learned to cooperate with the Brotherhood of Steel on numerous occasions._

_The origins of these creatures are, as written before, foggy. However, it is said that the United States Military had genetically created the first Deathclaw to be used in dangerous "search and destroy" missions, so they could lessen the loss of American casualties. Why they chose this highly risky alternative rather than using robots is a good question. According to the Enclave officer, they were called "Jackson's Chameleons," and were intertwined with the DNA of several different species._

**Are they intelligent?**

_It is hard to determine an actual intelligence average for such a controversial creature. Enclave records show that their trained Deathclaws could understand many complex orders from their masters, and that the radio controls were simply used to keep them from becoming a hazard. As noted before, Midwestern Deathclaws have been known to cooperate and even communicate slightly with the Brotherhood, but because their relationship with the average Deathclaw is rather conjectural, their intelligence cannot be officially added to any research list._

_Californian and Northeastern Deathclaws have an apparent matriarchal society, each pack being led by a pack mother, and a second-in-command alpha male. The females are already stronger and deadlier, but they are also the gatherers, much like in the situation of birds. The fathers watch the eggs and keep the nest safe while the mothers seek food out in the open, beyond their "sanctuaries." Should one enter one of these sanctuaries, it is likely that one would…_

I groaned loudly, closed the book, and set it back on the table. Though I really wanted to learn more about such an intriguing creature, textbooks had always been boring for me. I got what I wanted from it. Deathclaws are military experiments gone wrong, they're feminist in nature, and if I ran into one, I should be prepared to blow it up. Basically.

The sun was just rising outside, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to sleep that much anymore. I was awake now, and would be for some time. The radio kept playing old songs and old messages, the city was just waking up, and all that amused me right then was a very large inchworm crawling on the ceiling. I hoped it was harmless; but to be on the safe side, I picked up my Pip-Boy and gun, and looped the bag of caps to my belt before heading out the door.

* * *

**May 16, 2284 - 6:36 am**

A surprisingly refreshing blast of morning air hit my face as the hotel's door opened into the street. On the way down the stairs, I passed by an old beggar with no lower jaw, so the fresh air welcomed me into the day quite cheerfully. I do hope you noticed the sarcasm in that.

I was also happy to see that there were quite a few people out here. A restaurant across the way had opened, selling what could pass as gourmet food, and a few workers made their way to the northern end, where the commotion of labor echoed. I heard the workings of several unique tools, as well as a strange humming noise, and my curiosity got the best of me. Only now, as I made my way down, did I realize the poverty level in the city. I noticed an entire family sleeping in what must have been a sofa before it was burned out, leaving only the metal frame and a little cloth. I tried not to pay attention, keeping my eyes off of them as if their stares would give me the plague, but their sad faces burned in the darkness of my eyelids.

Luckily, the construction site ahead distracts me, and provides my mind with something new to focus on. As I round the corner, the number of workers around me increases. All are dressed in white uniforms with big yellow hard hats, like they were real Pre-War engineers working on something big.

I guess you could count their project as "something big."

At first, it seemed as if they were converting another plane into a usable building. They were reinforcing the walls, firing pieces of metal together, and taking the plane's old chairs out. But there was one small difference: they had a working engine.

The whining sound I'd heard earlier was now very loud, almost deafening as I walked closer. Engineers stood around it to the sides, clipboards in hand, taking notes on how the engine was running. Some guys in jumpsuits stood on top of the machine, working together to flip a humongous switch when they were given the order; almost instantly, the engine began to shut down, and the engineers walked away.

I was, to put it simply, intrigued by the whole display. I'd never seen an engine so big before, much less a working one. At least I knew what it was – I'd seen plenty of photographs of airplanes in the Vault. But I'd never imagined that I'd see a huge one actually operating. Well… operating as much as this one was, at least. My eyes followed the engineers, whom were circling around the fuselage to check on something else. I walked along the flimsy fence that separated me from them, attempting to see which gigantic mechanism they were going to analyze next. But they walked out of my view when I slammed my head into a metal pole.

It wasn't hard enough to cause any permanent damage, of course. If that were the case, I probably wouldn't be telling you this story now. Nevertheless, I fell back on my ass for the second time that morning, and instinctively looked up to see what had caused me so much pain.

ACADEMY OF SPRINGFIELD

PROJECT NO. 815

UNDER CATEGORY 23:

REBUILDING AND REMODELING

OF PRE-WAR TRANSPORTATION DEVICES

APPROXIMATE DATE OF COMPLETION:

WINTER 2284

"REBUILDING OUR WORLD, NO MATTER THE COST."

That's what the sign said, at least. My head told me, "Damn! Who puts a sign in the middle of the road?!"

Standing up and brushing myself off, I read the sign again. "Rebuilding and Remodeling of Pre-War Transportation Devices." So… what? They were rebuilding the plane? Do they think that they could fly it again? I took one look at what used to be a Boeing 787-900 and stifled a laugh. That piece of crap looked like it would fall apart if any more engineers got into it.

I walked away while the scientists tested the engine a second time, the annoying whine echoing in my ears. I pulled out my Pip-Boy's earphones, stuck them in, and turned on the radio. While I could hear it, no one else would know at that moment that Matt's recorded voice was telling everyone how to reduce the static in their home radios. I had to question that recording's significance, since they probably wouldn't be able to hear his instructions if the radio was staticky anyways.

The sleepy city opened in front of me; it's sights, it's smells, even it's sounds because I turned the radio's volume down enough to hear things. My boots trod heavily in the muddy road as I questioned what I would do that day.

* * *

**May 16, 2284 - 9:12 am**

"_Hey, everybody! Sorry for the ten-minute delay - even guys who sleep in radio stations have lives too! Anyways, away from that, and on to the schedule for today: It is now 9:14, according to my handy dandy wristwatch, and we have some exciting things this Saturday morning."_

I didn't know that it was Saturday. No one probably did, for that matter.

"_From now until 10 in the AM, it's gonna be a whole lot of music and daily tips from yours truly. Then, once that's over, you get to be introduced to Agawam's newest musical sensation, _The Survivors_. They're young, they're lyrics are deep, they're music is catchy, you're gonna love 'em. Let's leave it at that until we talk. And that lasts about an hour, followed by an update of the ongoing conflict in Long Ghetto. Let me sum it up for you: It's a load of shit. I dunno why Frank and Fran don't just come in, guns blazing, and finally take that place. I had an aunt in Crestview._

_But that won't take long, and the music and tips will be continued until… Special Lunch! As always, the topics of our two-hour show are _extremely_ current, and we'll be having a few guests from the Academy with us to talk about what be goin' on in deep, dark Springfield. 3 o'clock: We have Trade Hour, to discuss all that's going on with the wasteland's businesses and how any situations today could affect _yours_. And after that, there's really nothing until 7, when Rush Hannity and Harry Olbermann battle it out in the field of politics… believe me folks, you don't _need_ to keep your radio on during that hour. Once you've heard them a hundred times, even the bloodthirsty roar of a Behemoth sounds melodic. Then, we close at 9 after the End-Day News. So, in other words, be prepared… haha."_

I sat on the cold metal barstool in the corner of an unnamed pub. Apparently, there had been a sign on the roof until recently, but the owner was too lazy to make a new one. Plus, no one remembered what it was called. At least they served good and cheap toast. No jam, but the homemade butter was just fine. Of course, it only made me wistfully remember what cinnamon tasted like on toast.

That's nine caps down from my fifty, I thought. Still, forty-one is a lot of money these days. Maybe I should get a drink.

"Hey!" I called to the barman, a greasy bearded guy missing most of his fingers. "Could I get some, uh, milk to wash this down, please?" The guy nodded gruffly and walked towards the working refrigerator in the back.

He called back, "Do you care if it's irradiated or not?"

I hesitated while he came back with a pitcher. Confirmed by my silence, he proceeded to pour my glass with a "Good, got nothing but rad-milk right now anyways," and pushed it towards me. Once I flipped him a couple of caps, he walked away to another customer.

39 caps now, I told myself, downing the dairy in one real big gulp. I'd never had spicy milk before…

The sounds of the radio echoed from my arm, and I realized that the whole bar could hear it. I was surprised that no one had attempted to barter it off of me, but I activated the headphone again, pulling them from their container on the side of the Pip-Boy.

Matt was just talking about the many uses of Super Mutant skin, if you could remove it from the body. Apparently it makes good enough armor to stop a 10mm round. It also could be used as an effective rain poncho or makeshift roof. Maybe even a long-lasting chew toy for your dog. All I though of was that I had never actually seen a Super Mutant, much less how tough their skin was. I had heard everyone talking about them. 'They say a mutant got close enough to the walls to have to blow its head off,' or 'Billy managed to down an uglie last week – even kept the head as a trophy,' and 'I can't believe the muties are so close to The Factory nowadays, they can't run guns and ammo as much as they used to.'

The Super Mutants were a pivotal part of these people's lives. The creature's actions changed trade routes, moved villages, and re-wrote the maps. Killing one without help was a sign of honor and bravery, especially depending on the weapon you used. It was a monster to be feared, hunted down, and whispered in the ears of children to scare them. And I had not even seen anything more than an artist's depiction.

It was getting late in the morning, and my hunger was satisfied for now, so I picked myself up from the stool and walked out the door-less doorway. Outside, it was starting to get busier, as travelers entered through the big metal doors freely. I wondered if any of the other Vault Security kids had reached the city yet, which was probably so. They all left at six-hour intervals, and it had been more than a day.

Immediately, I began scanning the crowd for someone I knew. Any of the guys; or that girl, maybe. A single Vault jumpsuit was all that I needed to feel a little less alone. But all I saw was the same brown and grey that covered everybody. No blue, no yellow, no big "123" on anyone's backs.

I should find Harri, I told myself. But it was such a huge city, there was really nowhere to look, with any confidence. There had to have been a hundred traders coming through the door alone that morning, mixed in with the tourists, mercs, and refugees. Once again, I saw a huge caged wagon with a load of people tied to the inside. Their faces looked so sad, defeated and naked as they rolled down the street, passing free people. I saw an old man with a tattoo of an elaborate crucifix across his back, two teenagers hugging each other for warmth, and a lone mother holding a chained baby in her arms. It had to be the worst display of human cruelty I had personally seen. But like the rest of those on the other side of the cage, I turned away – and saw a jumpsuit.

The distinct bluish tint of what I thought was a Vault-Tec jumpsuit protruded from the crowd for an instant, before disappearing. It was so sudden, and kind of unexpected, that I instinctively ran after it through the throng of people. I had to dive in and out, over and under, each time spotting a little flash of blue before it vanished once again. I didn't know why, but I couldn't lose it; not even for a few seconds. Deep in the back of my mind, I needed to catch it.

Suddenly, I burst out of the crowd into an alleyway. I was so surprised to stop being resisted by everybody that I just kept going – into a trash can. The smell was absolutely awful, and I wasn't even quite sure where I was at first. Once I'd pulled myself from the garbage, and pulled more than one piece of rotten food from my hair, I tried to get my bearings.

An old vagrant laughed hysterically from his seat on the side of the alley, eventually devolving to a coughing fit before continuing to giggle. His voice was incredibly rough, like he smoked too much, and I really couldn't see his face. Thinking that now was the time to take control of everything, I spoke up to the rude tramp.

"What the hell are you laughing at, old man?" I tried to sound assertive, but puberty ruined all that with a crack of my voice. The man just kept laughing before holding up a dirty hand, pointing to me.

"You… you are not even old enough to hold a gun," he chuckled. Against my better judgment, I drew my sidearm and pointed at him.

"Wanna bet?" He looked at me through his veil of a hood, and just chuckled again.

"You be from one of 'dem Vaults, huh?"

"Who's asking?"

Laughing a fifth time (and it was the most annoying laugh on earth – I wouldn't have minded shooting him) he pulled out his other arm from inside his coat. At first, I assumed that he had a gun, so I cocked my weapon. But instead, resting over his hand, was a puppet. A little smiling, blue and yellow-clothed hand puppet. Now I realized what I had been chasing through the crowd. The vagrant spoke up.

"Do you recognize this?" he asked, in all seriousness. Now, I knew that it was obviously the "Vault Guy," Vault-Tec's ever-smiling mascot. He starred in our textbooks, on our breakfast cereals, and glowed happily on my Pip-Boy whenever I was awake. How did this hobo get a puppet that looked so brand new, it had to have been sealed inside of a Vault? What was it doing here in the first place? I didn't even know they had made Vault Guy puppets. Are there any others around? It's kinda cute. I want one…

I dropped my gun before I realized that I was drooling. I didn't see the man pick up the gun until after my mind registered that it had even left my hand, and I only realized that because he stowed the puppet away, out of my eye contact.

He was laughing again, though different this time. It was almost sinister. But my mind was still fuzzy, and all that I was thinking was _what's so funny, Vault Guy? Did someone tell a joke?_ It seemed to take forever for my mind to clear up, and when I finally could make out my surroundings, the man was talking.

"He… he came. I told you he would, there was no hiding it. Your de… _our_ deeds finally caught up to us. Reverend Hound sent a hit man to come and get the truth out of us; to end it all. I told you it would happen, but you wouldn't listen. Regicide isn't something that anyone can get away with for long. But he won't get anything out of me, don't you worry buddy. When I'm gone, save yourself."

His words made no sense, and they weren't directed at me, but I could grasp the basics of what he was trying to say to his puppet pal. Before I could do anything, he wrenched the Vault Guy from his arm, yelping as he did so as if it actually pained him, and threw it right at me. I told my body to dodge, but it just stayed put until the little toy smacked me in the face. It covered my eyes and mouth, and appeared to stick to me in some sort of death grip. Nothing I did succeeded in removing it from my face, which only furthered my suspicions that ghosts and monsters under your bed existed.

"Oh my God," I heard a gravelly voice say, almost in realization. They were the vagrant's last words, after he cocked the gun and fired.

Almost immediately, the puppet's pressure on me released, and it simply dropped to the ground, limp as a cloth toy should be. In front of where I was standing, the vagrant lay on the ground, blood pooling around a nearly skinless face. His teeth were rotted and his hair was all gone, but his eyes were as colorful and vibrant as if he were a child. Within seconds, even that disappeared with the remainder of his life.

Some people stopped and stared at the crime scene, but most barely glanced at us as they walked by. They were used to it; it happened all the time. The blood flooded to my shoes, so I stepped around it to the man and took back my gun, short a single bullet. Wordless and probably expressionless, I made my way back up the street, feeling the sting of a thousand imaginary eyes on me, shouting without sound "Murderer!" No one even noticed that the puppet had vanished.

* * *

**May 16, 2284 – 2:56 pm**

My backpack now on my shoulders, and the hotel room confirmed vacated, I decided to go and visit Kooza, just to see how he was doing. Once again, I had to walk to the center of the city, where several big planes made a circle around an even bigger plane. One of them was, of course, the hospital – that extra large jet with stacks of medical equipment outside. Even though this building was huge, it paled in comparison to the extra-_extra_ large jet that made up the governor's home in the center. It had guards posted at every corner, and electronic turrets placed above the front door. I could only imagine the inside of the two-story airplane, belonging to one family only. It was pretty much Port Bradley's White House.

I kept my eye on the place while my feet took me up the hospital's stairs. Instantly, that sterile smell you find in every hospital bombarded my senses, making me gag slightly. I never liked hospitals, but felt that I needed to go see Kooza. I'd known him for a day, and already he made an impact on me. Plus, he probably needed someone to talk to besides a doctor.

The plane's cockpit was hollowed out to be an office, while the flight attendant's station was used as a sort of lobby. Here, a nurse sat at a tiny desk with a computer terminal on top, which could very well have fallen on the woman at any second. When I entered, she forced herself to look up from the screen, and gave me that official smile that she was trained to give to all visitors. She did it well. At the time, I probably didn't tell that she was faking it.

"Hello. Welcome to the Port Bradley Medical Clinic and Surgeon's Office. Are you here for visiting or treatment?"

"Uh, v-visiting," I stammered, taken aback by her abnormal cheeriness. I did realize that her smile faltered for a moment.

"Very well. We are currently treating nineteen long-term patients and four short-term patients. What is the name of the patient, and your affiliation to him or her?"

I didn't know Kooza's last name, if he even had one. But I had to give her the information soon, or it'd be awkward.

"Kooza, he's got the Deathclaw wound, I'm traveling with him in a caravan."

"Ah yes," the girl confirmed. "Sir Screams-A-Lot, despite loads of morphine." She struggled to get out from behind her desk, managing to fall forward and hit her head on the wall before straightening back up with a "Right this way, sir."

The passenger area of the fuselage was reserved for standing patients while the emergency room was built in the rear. Below us, in the cargo hold, was perhaps two year's-worth of medical equipment. While the nurse led me down the hallway of cots, I caught a glimpse of the other patients between their translucent foldable walls. One man's face was completely covered in a cast, with several tubes attached to an oxygen tank, and another one leading to a plastic bag of some brown pasty liquid. Another patient, a woman, was missing an arm and tried to scratch it, only to remember that it no longer existed. There was even a little boy lying on his bed moaning – perhaps due to what looked like the biggest warts on earth all over his body. In the Wasteland, things could get freaky, and it wasn't an unusual thing.

Kooza was one of the last, near to the end. His leg was in a small cast and elevated, while the rest of him looked just as he did the day I met him, asleep. Except for the suddenly grey hair, of course. The man couldn't have been more than thirty, but his hair was already turning because of a single mishap on the job. I couldn't imagine what is was like for him to see his life flash before his eyes, and to witness the monster who would kill him suddenly blow up in his face. It mustn't have been pretty.

"We surgically removed the claw from his leg last night, and patched him up pretty good. Nothing serious was destroyed, but the wound was infected pretty quickly, so it'll be a few days before he can actually run again. I wouldn't suggest anything requiring heavy breathing."

After that professional report of Kooza's condition, the nurse very unprofessionally biffed him upside the head in order to wake him up. He actually tried to flail and hit whoever woke him, but it wasn't until now that I'd noticed he was strapped down. As quickly as possible, the nurse unstrapped him and shoved a small glass of water into his hands, which he took trembling and without a word. Finally, she walked up to me and said "I'll be in the lobby if you need me, and don't give him anything irradiated," then walked off.

I wasn't sure what to say to this Kooza who was staring off into space, so I just sat in the chair next to the bed and stared at him. When, after a few minutes, he continued to be still and silent, I lost patience and spoke up.

"You should drink your water. Don't want to be dehydrated, do you?"

Without so much as a flickered eye, he brought the cup to his lips and drank the whole thing before bringing his arms back down to the exact spot they were before. He resumed his silence.

"Kooza," I began, but he suddenly cut me off.

"Don't say that, my name is Cosme Bessette, and I am **not** crazy."

"I didn't say you were," was my retort, but he finally looked me in the eye and frowned.

"Everyone calls me Kooza. 'Kooza, shoot that. Kooza, protect this. Kooza, are you still sane?' I am sane, and je ne suis pas kooza!"

"Koo… Cosme," I tried to say. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't want to be Kooza anymore! Je nes suis pas kooza! Vous ne voyez pas? Je ne veux pas être kooza!"

"Cosme, I can't understand you!" But Kooza didn't listen, he sat up and started to pull at the strap around his leg. He screamed, he swore, and he looked unusually angry. Glancing down the hall, I saw the nurse and a doctor rushing towards us, so I took matter into my own hands…

I smacked him across the face so hard, he was thrown back into the bed.

He looked stunned, but realization crept across his face, and when he turned to face me, the sanity was back in his eyes. He tried to speak, but nothing came out, and the nurse was there with the doctor in no time.

"What's going on?!" the doctor, a gray-haired old man, asked me urgently. I stumbled for an excusable answer, but when I looked back at Kooza, I knew that he was okay now – and didn't want help. So I lied.

"I just informed your patient of his dear father, Lieutenant Bessette's death. He was fighting in… Crestview, and was killed there. Of course, he took it kind of hard."

Almost immediately, Kooza put on a saddened face, and even managed to make a tear fall to his cheek. If I didn't know any better, he'd just been told that his father had died in Crestview. The doctor was still unsure, though.

"Nothing medically problematic?"

"Not unless you count heartbreak as a treatable medical condition."

He looked around confused, at me, at Kooza, and at the nurse, who just shrugged. Finally, he just sighed and walked off grumbling something about being too old for his job, his employee on his heel. When they were gone, I sat back in the chair and turned to Kooza.

"You're an incredible liar," he told me. "My father's been dead since I was a young boy."

I wasn't sure if being a good liar was a compliment, but I acted like it was. "I don't know how I came up with that so quick. I was really thinking on the spot."

Kooza smiled, "Do you even know where Crestview is?"

"No idea, I heard it mentioned on the radio." He laughed, quietly so that the doctor wouldn't hear us, but heartily. I laughed too.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

- The Queen Mary 5, as I'm sure you know, is named after the famous Cunard Queen Mary cruise ships. By the time of the Great War, Cunard could possibly have made a Queen Mary 3 and 4, so why not a fifth one two-hundred years later? The Queen Mary ships are known for being some of the biggest and best for their time, and you'll see why the ship was named that way.

- Port Bradley is, of course, built on the remains of Bradley International Airport in Windsor, Connecticut. The airport itself was detonated by a single bomb, but the tarmac and nearby hotels were left relatively untouched. The nearby Connecticut River, however, has flooded and poured through the craters of the bombs over the neighborhood of Palisado, actually making the airport a brand new seaport.

- You will be introduced to The Academy later in the story, but their work in Port Bradley includes trying to fix a 787-900 (which hasn't been made yet) and attempting to fly it, much similar to Pinkerton's team's goal of getting Rivet City to float on the ocean again.

- Matt the Radioman mentions many things unique to the culture of Fallout Connecticut and Massachusetts. He tries to maintain a show that fits everyone's needs, including political debates and trade market overviews (yes, trade market overviews). Long Ghetto is what has become of the town of Longmeadow, Mass. Some of it's younger residents today actually call the town Long Ghetto, but most of those kids are in gangs, so whatever. Crestview is also an actual location, a town opposite Longmeadow, but pretty small. It makes continuous cameos throughout the story.

- Rush Hannity and Harry Olbermann are obvious hybrids of four of America's highest-acclaimed radicals on both sides of politics. Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity make a conservative point of view in Fallout Connecticut, carrying on capitalistic ideals from Pre-War America; while Harry Reid and Keith Olbermann turn to liberal points, introducing a socialistic side that would have been totally run out of town by the America at war with Communist China.

- Some people who are engrossed in the world of the game may remember happening upon the Puppet Man of Vault 77 - a man left alone in an entire vault with nothing but essentials and a box of puppets. He eventually goes crazy, leaves the vault with his Vault Boy puppet (whom he imagines is a psychotic killer) and manages to murder an entire slaver camp out of dementia. No one knows what happens to him, but now you do.... kinda. :P


	9. Deviation

Hey guys. Another pretty long wait. But it's all good, just busy with my real life, ya know. :)

This is an optional end to the story for me. I might continue, I might not. I probably will, but if I don't, I have a pretty cool idea for another fanfic that might be more successful.

Also, from now on, the story is called "A Child of the Box - Vault 123." Cuz it's cooler than the last name.

Anyways, I don't own the copyright to Fallout, Bethesda does, yada yada yada. Enjoy this chapter, and please review!

* * *

**May 16, 2284 – 7:34 pm**

I stayed by Kooza's side for hours, talking about this and that while the medical staff slowly began to remove the bandages from his leg. Not once did we mention why he acted as he did – for all anybody knew, the man in the bed was perfectly fine, aside from the injury that he was there for, of course.

So we both remained as casual as possible in our conversations. We talked about the vault, about the caravan, about Port Bradley, and Harri. His time in the hospital had been short, but I learned that he'd already managed to charm one of the nurses the day before, and tripped an annoying doctor without anyone seeing. His leg, once opened from its wrappings, looked relatively normal, though grey with a long stitched-up scar where the claw had been removed. When the leg was completely free, Kooza stared at it for some time until I spoke up about the weather.

Harri came at about quarter to seven, and was surprised to see me. I was supposed to meet them at the docks, but she did consider that this made things much easier. Her caravan was outside, and I was to watch it while Harri sorted out some paperwork and wheeled Kooza out on a wheelchair. Once they were out of the eye and earshot of the doctors, the French mercenary jumped out of his seat and hobbled over to the wagon with pride. He sat on top, of course, while I walked beside the Brahmin on our way to the port of Port Bradley.

So now I sat. Alone. Waiting for our trip upriver to be sorted out. Kooza had a buddy on another ship and promised to be back in ten minutes. It had been twenty- five; I counted.

The docks were a magnificent display of maritime activity, harboring hundreds of

boats ranging from Pre-War motorboats to ferries to a huge inactive battleship serving as a military fort. Along the coast of the harbor were fishing and shipping businesses, taverns, and even a sailing rental, which appeared to be closing down soon if not already. In front of me were the ferry docks, holding lines to four medium-sized vessels that provided trips for anyone who wished to pay. Upon arrival, Harri had told me all about them.

"There are three local ferries that go up and down the river for tourists, caravans, and other travelers. The Queen Mary 5, the largest and the one we're taking, the Wooden Lurk, owned by this Scotsman McAvoy, and occasionally the Duchess Gambit, which goes international. That one right there," she pointed to a smaller boat at the end, "is a Quebeckan ferry called Lawrence's Yacht, down for a rare trading mission. None of these ships charge much and have plenty of room for everyone, so it's pretty much a done-deal. I also like to share with my fellow passengers, if you know what I mean. That's the name of the game."

And so the game has been played, and was being played right now. Harri had approached the Queen Mary 5 with confidence, and was probably using her wily bartering skills to strike a better deal for the ride, and earn some cheap tickets. I got the easy job: sit in one place and watch the stuff. Easy, for sure.

Every single person that walked by looked like a thief ready to nab whatever they wanted behind my back. No doubt that many believed that they could take on the 15-year old guard holding a lever-action rifle on his lap. They probably thought they were better trained, better armed, and better prepared. They were probably right. Nonetheless, I sat vigilant over the wares, locked and loaded, ready to shoot the head off of the first person to make a mistake. Their skulls had no match against my bullet, and their friends would be sure to remember it…

Lost in my imaginary match against an imaginary shoplifter, I nearly shot off the face of the red-haired woman who poked me in the back. Both of us were startled, and I gathered everything together clumsily.

"M-may I help-p you?" I stuttered. The woman was tall and freckled, and looked to be in her early twenties. Even though a gun had just been pointed in her face, she wore a permanent smirk like she knew what to do and everyone else didn't. Plus, she had gathered herself quicker than I had.

"Um, yeah. You can, actually," the woman answered. "This is Harri Harith's shop, right?"

"Yes, it is."

"Is she around?"

I didn't know who this woman was or what she wanted, and even though Harri might know her, I couldn't exactly leave to report that a friend was here. Someone, even this woman, might steal something and I couldn't let that happen. So, I replied with something vague enough not to sound mean.

"She's… around," I told her, waving my arms in each direction. "But I'm really not sure where."

The red-haired woman looked disappointed. "Oh okay. Just tell her that Nadine wants her launcher back."

"Sure. Anything else?"

"Nope, that's all I wanted. Thanks, and don't forget!"

And with that she ran off and boarded the Duchess Gambit, which quickly dropped her lines and headed out with its passengers in no more than a few minutes. Coincidentally, Harri returned a very short time after those few minutes, denying her the pleasure of talking to Nadine by a hair.

"So…" she started, holding up three tickets. "Ready to get going?"

"Well, I am, at least. Kooza has to get back from his buddy on some other ship."

Harri groaned. "Oh, c'mon. He's not visiting Kiernan again, is he?"

"I dunno."

She shook her head and left down the south end of the harbor, disappearing amongst the crowd. Not much later, she led a whimpering Kooza back by his ear, and practically threw him against the wagon.

"I leave for what, half an hour, and you get drunk with Kiernan again! And the doc said no alcohol for a week! But what else did I expect?!"

She was yelling, but smiling as well.

**May 16, 2284 – 8:07 pm**

At last, I found the real jumpsuits. Once we had boarded the Queen Mary 5, we were told that the ship would be leaving at nine that night. Then, one by one, they boarded. Will, Adam, Victoria, then Jon. Each with their own trader to protect. Will had a junk dealer named Wroclaw, Adam was following a traveling chemist whom everyone calls Dr. Quack and his 'assistant' Orwell, and Victoria had been paired up with a missionary from the Abbey of the Road, Sister Kathryn. Jon was the unlucky guy who got Yahoo the slaver, and he already appeared physically sick of looking at all of the naked bodies, some skinless, inside that wagon-cage.

We greeted each other briefly, but really didn't make much of an effort to converse. All of the wagons were left in a big open space on the bottom, covered with tarps, while the passengers gathered on the second floor – a roofed, two-walled little area, the front and back open to the elements, with about a dozen beds lining the walls. Before long, each person on the boat had claimed his or her own bed. I managed to get the one at the end, somehow. If it rained, I would get wet.

Eventually, we were all unpacked. Harri told us that it was a full one-day trip by boat, but that was a good alternative to the three-day trip by foot. Two if you run the whole way. There would be a lot of sitting around and maybe "sightseeing," but boredom was a hundred times better than being ripped apart by the Congregation, or the Super Mutants that inhabited the area around this old school, Suffield Academy. I kinda wanted to see a Super Mutant for myself; to see it rip apart a car and throw it at something, and make it explode. But it was always "too unsafe" or "far too great the risk" or whatever. The Super Mutants were too great, it seemed, for Daniel Laird Boone of Vault 123.

I lay down on my bed to wait the half an hour for the captain to return. In fact, sleep seemed like a very good idea. I closed my eyes and relaxed, thinking about home. About Mom, Overseer Krakauer, Jessie and Janey, Will and Chief Matheson. I was about the reach the hand of Mr. Nikitin as I accepted my high school diploma, the entire town clapping joyously, when a rustling from my left shook me from such fantasies.

Above me was the beaming, bubbly face of Victoria Ivanitski. She was pretty tall, but her blond hair was hanging uncomfortably close to my mouth, and her smile was a little too happy.

"Hey," she said suddenly.

"Um, hey?" I managed to utter. Victoria laughed and stood up, showing just how far she had to bend down to reach the bed's height.

"Your face was hi-lar-i-ous. No idea what the heck I was doing," she giggled. I chuckled a little to show that I wasn't totally out of it, and was going to speak up, but she beat me to it.

"So, how's your es-cor-tee?" She seemed to like to enunciate her syllables.

"Harri?" I asked. She nodded. "She's good. Really nice to just about everyone, and a wicked shot with any gun. You know she slaughtered a Deathclaw on the way here?'

"What's a Deathclaw?" I felt like she just punched me in the face. My whole experience out here was about trading, shooting, and that Deathclaw.

"You didn't see two big legs sticking out of the ground on the way over?"

"No-ope."

"Huh…" I was, as my mom would say, highly confuzzled. "Well, anyway. How's your person, Sister Kathryn?"

Victoria groaned exaggeratedly. "Bo-ring. All she does is give 'holy water' to sick people and preach about God. I get to protect the bi-bles that she hands out. She won't even let me eat meat!"

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah! It's not like there's a whole lot of veg-e-ta-tion out here, ya know. At least she's okay about fish… the two-headed kind."

"Ew."

"You got that right."

I thought for a moment. "What are you going to be doing in Stony Knoll?"

"Oh," Victoria concentrated on the ceiling, as if it would help her remember. "I know that there's a really big church there, and we'll be visiting that place for… something. Like re-stock-ing on bibles, or holy water or what-ev-er."

"So, is there anything you like about Sister Kathryn?" I asked, chuckling.

She laughed with me. "Well, she's a really good sto-ry-tel-ler… when it's not a passage from the Old Tes-ta-ment. She likes to tell tales of her sister Mar-cel-la, who died a few years ago down south. I've heard pretty much eve-ry-thing about her – she was one kick-ass nun."

We cracked up at the thought of a Sister wielding a huge gun in the face of some evil. That would make for a good comic book: "THE NUN FROM HELL." Haha.

After that there was some small talk about the last couple of days, the people we've met, things we've seen. Throughout the conversation, Victoria would throw in some jokes about Sister Kathryn, and we laughed about them until she came up from the lower deck, gave Yahoo a serious glare, and sat just a couple of beds away. Then the jokes stopped, and she called Victoria to her so that something could be done.

So, I explored the boat as thoroughly as I could. I found the cabin, which was empty except for the wheel, a chair, and a radio. There was a small storage closet that held some mementos, including a signed framed picture of a Pre-War Red Sox player, Todd Howard, and a completely preserved acoustic guitar with a sign on it: "Touch and you die." I didn't touch it.

Downstairs was a working restroom, but when I opened the door it was occupied by Adam, who seemed to be vomiting a little bit. He heard me and turned around.

"Ah," he recognized me. "Danny. What's uh… ugh…" He turned back to the toilet and heaved his dinner into the can. When he appeared to be finished, I approached him cautiously.

"Hey, are you okay Adam?"

"Do I look okay?" he replied bitterly.

"Well, no. But what's wrong?"

The boy groaned and tried to face me again. His face was devoid of color and his eyes bloodshot. "The doc gave me this stuff when we left town – said it would help me become more aware. It was just like an asthma inhaler I would use anyways, but it made me feel great… until this morning. Now that medico bastard can't find anything to help me, and I've been sick like this all day."

"Ouch," I replied. He really did look messed up. "Do you remember the name of the stuff he gave you?"

Adam just shook his head. "The dude just told me to take it so that I could think better on the road. And it helped me see, I could pretty much sense that Raider trailing us. But it was only good for a day."

"Do you need anything?"

"Well, if you can find a popsicle to cool my throat, that'd be great. Otherwise, I'll stay here and stare into this hole."

I nodded as Adam swung his head back to the toilet and spat out a big wad of chunky spittle, and he just sat there breathing heavily. So, I closed the door and let him be.

Just outside that door were all the wagons sitting next to one another – Harri's wagon filled with nothing but guns and ammo, Dr. Quack's caravan carrying box upon box of medicinal supplies, and Wroclaw's little cart of random trash, which the man was leaning on right now. He was bald and missing an eye, but didn't bother to wear an eye patch. A homemade cigar stuck out of his lips, and he puffed casually with his one eye following me as I made my way towards the back of the boat.

At the end was the largest wagon – the tarp-covered cage. I heard coughing and whispers inside, but didn't dare to lift it for fear of being met by an unforgiving face. Instead, I walked silently around it to the stern, where I expected to find anybody at all except Jon. When he saw me step into the light, his head rose for an instant, and then fell back down again.

"Hey, man," I tried to start. But he just shook his head and turned from me. I had no idea what was going on, or what he was thinking, so I just sat on the same bench and sighed.

"Are you feeling okay, Jon?" I asked.

"No." A one-word answer.

"Why?"

The poor guy just looked soulfully at the cage in front of us. After a long moment of silence, I was about to speak, but Jon beat me to it.

"Why did I get paired up with this?" he asked, but not exactly to me.

"Um, what?"

"Why did I have to get the ugliest job out of the bunch, huh?" I had no idea how to respond, so I let him continue.

"It's freaking ridiculous, looking after something like this. Yahoo has no idea what the hell he's doing with them."

"Are you talking about the slaves?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "The son of a bitch specializes in Ghoul slavery. What a moron. It's not like they'll be of much help."

"Whaddya mean?"

"The Ghouls used to be people, just like anyone else. But the fuckin' radiation pretty much killed everything that made them, that keeps them healthy… I hate looking at them everyday! It makes me sick, and I can't eat with their skull-faces in my head."

"They're just the unlucky ones. They can't be expected to be the prettiest or the most able."

"So why in the world would you want one as a slave? Their arms'll fall off and their heads'll roll and you'll have wasted money. They deserve better than torture."

"They deserve freedom from all of this, I'll bet."

"Exactly. They've suffered enough. Just put them out of their fuckin' misery."

"Wait, what?"

"They're entire lives are just endless torture, and eventually they become nothing more than mindless hissing zombies roaming the subways. If they'll find any solitude, they'll find it in a dignified death."

"Hold up," I was astonished. "You want to kill them?"

He looked at me dead in the eye, and spoke with absolute certainty. "It's a million times better than what they've got."

**May 16, 2284 – 9:01 pm**

The captain finally boarded with a huge backpack and a female friend, and got up in front of everybody on the second floor. He introduced himself as "Rook, though a few call me Rocky, and my best pals call me Checkmate for some reason." Then he gave all the rules of the boat (don't defile it and I won't defile you, which was creepy) and told everyone that we would be setting off immediately.

In no time, the ropes were all untied and dropped, and the ferry began to rattle with its engine. A large one must've powered the massive hulk of the boat, because it was moving faster than a nearby motorboat when we'd reached the open water of the harbor.

Once we'd past a few buildings sticking up out of the river, and a factory smokestack with a sign on it that said "This used to be Palisado," the boat turned and made it's way north. I couldn't see Springfield from here, but that was unsurprising. It'd be a day or two until we reached Agawam's pier.

The boat had the hugest spotlight I'd ever seen mounted on the front, cutting straight through the darkness of the night so that Rook could see. With it, we'd regularly spot different landmarks: the top of a sunken drawbridge, a PT boat crushed on some rocks, the tail of an airplane that didn't quite make it to Bradley in time. Occasionally, we'd pass small lights from houses, mostly on the west side. Harri said that they were usually villages branching off of the major cities, or people living alone.

As time wore on, we had our supper of mole rat on a stick and mutfruit, and then quietly started to doze off. At least, the kids did. The adults all gathered around a table and played Oh Hell, with the exception of Sister Kathryn. Harri was telling a tale of how she escaped a Reaver prison in New York in a straitjacket, while I noticed Orwell slide some cards, but I didn't bother telling anybody. The next thing I knew I woke up to a dark boat, Kooza's rhythmic breathing in the bed next to mine.

Everyone was asleep on the Mary 5 - even Rook in the corner while his girl drove on sleepily - except for a lone figure leaning against the railing. His hunched back displayed a proud 123, gleaming in the light of the nearly full moon above, and his Pip-Boy shone happily into the darkness. He wasn't paying any attention to it. All of his focus was directed out onto the barren landscape beyond, analyzing each dark rock and crevice.

My body pulled itself out of bed while my mind stayed put on my pillow. Eventually, it woke up too, and followed me as I tiptoed towards the boy at the railing. When my mind caught up, and jammed itself in its rightful place, I realized who he was.

"Will?" The boy turned his head to me, sighed, and looked back out.

"Hey Danny," Will mumbled.

I asked, "What're you doing out here?"

"Just lookin' around is all."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I am." He honestly didn't look what I would call "okay." Later on, I might have called him high. He was neither – rather, Will seemed soulful. I was thinking that maybe he went through something tough on his way to Port Bradley, and was going to leave him to that and go back to sleep, but I hesitated a single second. And in that second, he sighed again and spoke to me.

"Have you looked at the world yet, Dan?"

I was thrown aback. I thought of a few deep reasons to his question, and answered the literal one. "I've been looking at this world for more than a year now." Come to think of it, my response was pretty deep as well.

"Then you know," Will continued, "that it's gone to Hell."

"I can imagine it better, if that's what you mean."

The young guard spun around and looked at me straight in the eye with a hopeful smile. "Exactly, Danny! You _can_ imagine better! Everyone could imagine it better." Then he turned back to the open landscape and opened his arms.

"This place could be so much better, but no one is willing to try." Will's arm twisted over to an intact boat lying on the shore. "Someday, that ship could sail again, bringing back fish and food to hungry people." Then to a small outcrop on the shore. "There's a perfect spot for a… a home, a village. And just behind it is fertile-enough land for those willows to grow, so why not farmland?" He chuckled and kept looking. "We can build cities, communities again. When Agawam is done with slavery, it'll open up more freedom to this world and we can really rebuild." His eyes met mine once more. "They've been waiting years for that Vault to open and release New Eden. What will the world say when a bright new generation comes out with an understanding of both Pre-War and Post-War? When our trees and soil spread across this wasteland and make it green again?"

By now, he's breathing heavy, finally able to tell someone about his revelation. His speech done for now as he collected himself, I told him, "It would be great. But it would take a very long time."

"I know." Will calmed himself down. "I'm sorry, I'm too excited, but… in the Vault, I didn't think I'd ever be anything. I knew that I was destined to be one of those guards that skulks the halls at night, finding that nothing is out of place, and yet still patrolling. I was destined for something that ten other guys would have, and I wouldn't be happy."

My voice came out. "And now?"

"Now… I have something to do. Something to be. I can help in the rebuilding of the world, not the punishment of a kid who ran too quickly in a stairwell. Do you know what my dream became when I opened those files they found on the Goddard bones?"

"What?"

Will smiled. "I wanted to revive the World's Fair. Just think about it. There's got to be other people out there. I know that Africa wasn't hit hard like America. Imagine a convention, where all these people from different societies meet and share their culture, their faiths and traditions. I wanna make a fair where people can taste Cajun cooking and watch Irish dancing in the same place again. I wanna see everyone discover and understand these people and their world."

"That'd be amazing," I simply said. And he nodded. Will was a visionary, a dreamer. Perhaps his dreams were far-fetched, perhaps some of them would never be done, but he dreamed all the same. I remember reading about a Dr. King who had a dream, and it came true. Maybe his would as well. So we just stared into the water, watching it rush by beneath us, and I thought that the world would be okay with guys like Will. The more people like him, the faster the Dark Ages would end, and the world would be good.

Will's smile disappeared for a moment as he stared hard into the water. "Did you see that?"

"See what?" I asked.

"Something dark, below the boat."

I strained to make something out, but all I noticed was the shimmering water and a reflection of the moon. All was serene, even if the river was polluted.

Suddenly there was a small lurch to the boat. Victoria fell out of her bed and yelped in surprise, but she was quickly drowned out by a new noise - one I'd never heard before and would never like to hear again. It was some sort of screeching roar, like a dying vulture, a defensive lion, and a screaming banshee all in one voice. Our hands were over our ears involuntarily, and by now the entire boat was awake. Rook began to run across the rows of beds with extreme worry in his eyes, and a shotgun in his hand.

"Oh shit , shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" he panted before he leaned over the railing and screamed at the top of his lungs "MONTAUK!!!"

As if on cue in some bad action movie, a humongous claw reached out from the water and struck the ship from the side, crushing the beds where Orwell and Dr. Quack had previously been sleeping. I heard an amazing amount of screaming on the level below us, and I had a bad feeling that the slaves weren't going to be very lucky tonight.

Rook's shotgun did nothing against the bulletproof scale of this giant monster, whose hand still rested on the boat. In a flash, Harri sprinted downstairs and came up with a similar rocket launcher, except this one had what looked like a small nuclear warhead sitting in the back. Once at the arm, she pointed it down to the body of the beast and fired.

A roar larger than the first one echoed into my eardrums, and the first thing I saw after the blast was Will's face, shouting something that no one could hear. And a head rose from the water, some sort of beaked creature, hitting the boat as hard as it could. I remember it crushing Wroclaw dead on, and Will was somewhere under it. The wood shot off in all directions, the beds soaring into the air, then the water.

And then I flew. For a moment I saw the bright moon and time seriously stopped. I didn't feel like I was falling. I wanted to keep looking at that moon, who must brag to it's twin in the water about it's beauty, but then the streak of a missile cut across the whiteness of Earth's satellite, and I fell once again. At first it was cold. But then it was warm. And finally, I wasn't quite sure what I felt. Maybe nothing.

* * *

- The battleship in the harbor is the U.S.S. Sterling Calvert, a relatively newer ship before the war.

- The factory along Palisado is an actual mill that's around today, and one of the only buildings in the neighborhood not sitting in a heap at the bottom of a crater. Port Bradley's harbor was only made possible because Palisado was ripped apart by the bombs, and the hills were annihilated to below sea level, flooding the area.

- The famous/ infamous Montauk Monsters found on Long Island recently were said to be a biological experiment on the island of Montauk, which is controlled by the U.S. government and used as a military base. This beast in the water is the Fallout universe's experiment gone wrong.


	10. Interim: A Thesis Paper

Hey, this is like an intermission to the story, but it's pretty interesting, so I hope you enjoy it. Chapter... 11 is it? Is on the way.

* * *

**Ghouls, And What They Are**

**Thesis Written by Dr. Richard Banfield**

**November 13, 2277**

For approximately 200 years, our land has been savaged by the destruction of a past generation's mistake. The radiation that has destroyed a world has brought many new and terrifying things. New terrain, for example – the earth's crust is now a storage cell for radiation pockets, and the wrong step could make you glow in the dark. New cultures? Of course. Out of the wreckage of an ancient society, new communities with their own morals and obligations have sprung up to prove that humanity is the most stubborn of species. And on that note, new species: Yao Guai, Rad Ants and Scorpions, Deathclaws, Super Mutants. All of these new and incredibly frightening creatures are, by popular agreement, the result of years of mutation-evolution. And yet, how exactly could these species have been created, when much of man has yet to evolve or devolve? Well, there are the Super Mutants, so pumped with pre-war super soldier drugs that they can no longer function as humans. And there are sometimes the special people who get the best out of the radiation deal, able to grow limbs back or resist fire. And then there are the Ghouls.

Ghouls: a hated name for many people of the wasteland. And for just as many, an identity. For years, these unfortunate people have had to live with their flaking skin and exposed organs. For their apparently hideous appearances, they have been given the name of Ghoul, to actually separate them from other people. Are we so prejudiced that the last 300 years of anti-discrimination before the war mean nothing to us? That is apparently the case, as the victims of the devastating "Ghoul Virus" are killed, enslaved, and generally given no second look everyday in this world. And we really have no legitimate answer as to why we do it. Because they're ugly? Violent? Diseased? Could I catch the Ghoul Virus by hanging around Ghouls? These are the questions that need serious answering, and they are the questions that I intend to answer myself.

The virus that ravages the mind and body of the so-called 'Ghouls,' is a tricky and unpredictable study. Most likely, the disease is a mutated form of **Necrotizing faciitis**, (necro- being Latin for corpse, it is understood how they have come to be called 'zombies' or 'ghouls'), otherwise known as a 'flesh-eating virus.' This condition was a rare and highly deadly problem before the Great War, according to medical history files, and would actually eat the skin and flesh of its victim by releasing special toxins until the organs stopped functioning. More often than not, the heart, stomach, or other vital organs would be destroyed in the process, and many patients were required to have their limbs amputated in order to stop the spread. After examining photos taken of pre-war victims and comparing them to our average modern day Ghoul, it can be concluded that there is an obvious link between the two. Could these people simply be suffering from a normal disease? That is the popular theory as of this writing.

This theory states that the virus itself was mutated by high radiation levels, like many of the organic life forms of this earth, so it spreads faster and more effectively. Whether or not it is deadlier remains to be seen. Most Ghoul Virus victims live much longer lives than the average human, albeit in much pain. The cause of this is uncertain, however it is deduced that the virus actually strengthens the immune system over time, by inserting its toxins as a normal compound in the victim's chemical makeup, allowing the body to repel most major changes, and absorb radiation that heals them. This does not stop the usually eventual occurrence of 'turning feral,' that is, losing enough brain mass by means of the virus that the victim's thoughts become scrambled and degenerate. The changing of the immune system would, in theory, not be able to change this vital organ of the human body, and thus would not prevent it from harm. Thus, 'ferals' still roam with no brain, and plenty of gut. It is from these mutated creatures where Ghouls get their name.

Based on both recent and Pre-War research, the only treatment for such a disease is the removal of the infected tissue before it spreads. Because the mutated virus spreads so rapidly, this is almost certainly not an option today. Other possible Pre-War medical care short of praying to different gods in different languages, included amputation of infected limbs and high dosages of penicillin cultures. Penicillin is a rare and very powerful fungal medicine, and when used in different ways, could help aid in the cure of many things from ear infections to Gonorrhea.

Recently, this writer has had the pleasurable opportunity to test several possible treatments on Ghouls. I had no intention of performing amputation, although some patients were afraid that I would. First, I did a background check on all of the subjects. I will not name them in this thesis, but will refer to them as Subjects A, B, C, D, and E.

Subject A – Male Caucasion. Reports that he was living in Bethesda before the war, and contracted Ghoul Virus at the age of 33. Date of contraction: 2089. His breathing is more raspy than the other patients, perhaps due to his age. Weight: 147 lbs. Height: 5'11". Pulse rate: 96 bpm. Reaction time: .89 seconds. Chance of going feral within a year: 74.33%. After removing dead infected tissue from his right arm, he reports no pain. After removing moderately infected tissue from left arm, he reports a twinge. After cutting a small harmless incision on a skinned section of his right leg, he reports some small pain. After cutting a relatively large incision on a skinned section of his left leg, he reports quite a bit of pain, although not as much as a normal human would.

Subject B – Female Hispanic. Reports of having been on vacation in D.C. from New Mexico before the war, and contracted the Ghoul Virus at the age of 13. Date of contraction: 2078. Breathing is relatively raspy compared to patients C-E, being a Pre-War Ghoul. Weight: 127 lbs. Height: 5'2". Pulse rate: 87 bpm. Reaction time: 1.13 seconds. Chance of going feral within a year: 64.23%. After removing dead infected tissue from her left leg, she reports no pain. After removing moderately infected tissue from her right arm, she reports no pain. After cutting a small incision on a skinned section of her left arm, she reports no pain. After cutting a relatively large incision on a skinned section of her right leg, she suddenly reported a large amount of pain. Note: possibly untruthful in her previous responses.

Subject C – Male Black. Homosexual. Reports living in Megaton before contracting the Ghoul Virus, most likely from the water supply, at the age of 32. Date of contraction: 2199. Breathing is healthy for a Ghoul. Weight: 134 lbs. Height: 6'1". Pulse rate: 104 bpm, unusually high and denies any anxiety. Reaction time: 0.46 seconds. Chance of going feral within the next year: 34.12%. After removing dead infected tissue from his right leg, he reports a very small twinge. After removing moderately infected tissue from the same leg, he reports some twinge of pain. After cutting a small incision on a skinned section of his right arm, he reports a sharp pain. After cutting a relatively large incision on his left leg, he reports sharp immediate pain which slowly goes away afterwards. He also complained of some sort of heartburn, but found nothing.

Subject D – Female Caucasion. Reports living as a slave near Tenleytown when she contracted the disease at age 24. Date of contraction: 2214. Breathing is healthy for a Ghoul. Weight: 131 lbs. Height: 4'11.5". Pulse rate: 86 bpm. Reaction time: 0.96 seconds. Chance of going feral within the next year: 29.89%. After removing dead infected tissue from her left arm, she reports no pain. After removing moderately infected tissue from her left leg, she reports a twinge. After cutting a small incision on a skinned section of her right arm, she reports a sharp pain. After cutting a relatively large incision on her right leg, she screams quickly and does not respond, though is obviously conscious.

Subject E – Female Asian. Former mercenary specializing in the retrieval of portable energy sources; contracted the disease shortly after visiting a Sat-Com dish near Old Olney at the age of 19. Missing left hand. Date of contraction: 2254. Breathing is nominal, only slightly worse than a human's. Weight: 130 lbs. Height: 5'3". Pulse rate: 81 bpm. Reaction time: 0.46 seconds. Chance of going feral within the next year: 16.14%. After removing dead infected tissue from her right leg, she reports a twinge. After removing moderately infected tissue from her right arm, she reports a small amount of pain. After cutting a small incision on a skinned section of her left leg, she reports some pain. After cutting a relatively large incision on her right leg again, she reports a sharp pain. Very strong, must be from her experience.

Each of these subjects was clearly human, with human thoughts and abilities. None of their brains were very affected by the disease, although their other organs were. I was reluctantly allowed to perform a full autopsy on one of their friends who'd died recently, so I was easily able to study the Ghoul's body inside and out, without fear of causing harm. I nicknamed the deceased subject "Hans," mostly due to the fact that both of his lower arms were missing.

Unsurprisingly, Hans' organs were very much intact and in the correct anatomical positions for the most part. Cause of death was accidental suffocation, and I found, then dislodged the object in his windpipe that restricted the airflow. His pancreas is also missing. The heart seems healthy and protected by the ribs and remaining chest skin. No mutations of the heart seem to be present, from birth or adult life. The blood is extremely radioactive, but does otherwise consist of normal chemicals that you would find in any animal blood. His stomach lining seems thin, and I have come to find that this is due to Hans' body failing to produce enough mucus to protect the stomach from the normal hydrochloric acid, spotting his lining with innumerable ulcers.

A healthy human liver will have a pinkish color and will be completely smooth. Han's liver is black and has many cracks falling across it. This is consistent with a combination of excess drinking, radiation exposure through food, and the overwhelming of the liver, possibly by the virus, rendering the organ only a fraction as useful as it should be. Moving on to his lungs, I didn't need to do anything to it to see that Hans' breathing was as bad or even worse than a human with emphysema. The "skin" of the lungs was flaky and crumbling, and when I cut an incision down the side of the left lung, a small amount of black liquid squirted out. Indeed, both of the organs were bearing the effects of emphysema, or something similar to it.

Hans is the epitome of the Ghoul condition – a skin-peeled bald-headed man with sunken eyes and a terribly raspy voice. On the inside, his organs have been affected by the disease beyond help, and many would find it surprising that someone like him had lasted as long as he did. I can only imagine how he managed to contract necrotizing faciitis, but one may safely assume that it waaasssssss nooooooooTyuij obvwehjwhvbwrhjb wvhbj YHIBJPPP896576OWBVWIbjhksbvk rjnvheribkwbjvdmcfn234234hjdSWRVHJERBWjnvkehfb,.,24489528 nkjnijBIUBHFhHjknHBIFEHRJKjekrnm846298ue0[p

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HAHAHA, SERVS YA RIGT YA FUCKIN COMMIE PIG BASTARD! CUTTIN UP OUR BRTHRN LIKE SOME SORTA ANIMAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DAVID WAS AN AMAZING MAN, AND YOU DEFILE HIS BODY LIKE SATANS BITCH!!!!

YOU NAZI DOCTR AND UR SHITTY TOWER OF BIGOTED ASSHOLES ARE GONNA GO TO HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU DESERVE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HAIL ROY!!!!!!!!!!

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Hello, my name is Herbert Dashwood. I was the only smoothskin survivor of the Tenpenny Ghoul Revolt. They let me live, knowing who I was. Even so, I won't live much longer on account of my age. But, before I go, I wish to publish the remainder of my good friend Richard Banfield's thesis on the study of Ghoul Virus. Even the comments left on the bottom. May God rest his soul.


	11. Enkindling

Back again. It's been awhile... how are you doin'? You look nice in that dress.

Haha, just kidding. I know that no dress-wearing girls read this crap. :) Dress-wearing guys, however... maybe.

Yeah, Danny lives. That interim before was written by Dr. Banfield from Tenpenny Tower, sometime between the Lone Wanderer gets the Ghouls in and that dude kills them all. Yay. I'm a geek. I think any early 2000s rock fans will like the giant metaphor in the next few chapters. So I hope you enjoy it, and please R&R. I don't own Fallout, so for the love of God, don't sue me.

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**May 17, 2284 – 3:23 pm**

When you regain consciousness, the first thing that happens is you feel again. The pain comes to you before you have a chance to wake up, and you feel like screaming but the brain can't process that. In a dream, you're writhing on the ground as someone drives a nail into your head, and sometimes you die. Then, the pain goes away, and your eyes open to find no attacker with a nail and hammer. Just a couple of tribals looking at you curiously while you were shifting in sleep.

"Aha, the child has returned to us at last!" My eyes struggled to find the face of the speaker, a man near middle-aged, with dark hair stuck into different spiked arrangements, giving his eyes and face a shadowed look. Smiling pleasantly, he reached into a pocket in his black knee-length coat and pulled out a bottle of water, which he unscrewed and handed to me. Unfortunately, I found my hands and legs unable to move, much less my mouth, which was lockjawed.

The man frowned when he noticed my temporary paralysis, and handed the water to the woman at his side. She too had black hair, tied into a ponytail, and smiled at her companion when he looked at her, gratefully accepting the bottle with fingerless-gloved hands.

Kneeling beside the bed, the man in the dark coat began rubbing my arms and legs in a hard motion, slowly bringing back warmth and feeling to my limbs. He asked me to move my legs, and eventually I did, then my arms, and after he opened my mouth a few times with his hand my lockjaw began to go away. When I could at least open my lips to breathe, the woman stepped forward and tried to drip the water down my throat.

I hadn't realized how sore and burning my throat was until that liquid came rushing through. At first the pain intensified so bad, I almost kicked the woman in the face. But slowly, the feeling receded and I took down gulps of water gratefully until the bottle was empty.

Maybe a few minutes later, I was able to sit up some and rest my back on the wall behind the bed, facing the two tribals who supposedly took care of me in this rather messy cement basement room while I was unconscious. It was somewhat awkward, but the man broke the silence first.

"How are you doing now?"

My words struggled to come out. "I'm… okay, I guess."

He sighed. "That is relieving. When we found you, we were sure you were dead."

"Really?"

"Yes," the woman came into the conversation. "My hunting party discovered you amongst much wooden wreckage. You had barely a pulse."

"It is really quite fortunate," the man said, "that we had decided on Mirelurk for supper this evening. Or else, we might not have found you on the riverbanks."

I thought about this for a moment, and in an instant, all that had happened before I had landed in the water came rushing back to my head, and it throbbed horribly. I clutched the side of my head and groaned. "What happened to the boat?"

The two tribals bit their lips until the woman came up with an explanation. "There is nothing of your vessel left. The Great Bare Tortoise chose it's feeding that night, and it is very near impossible to change its mind."

"You mean the… the, um… Montauk?"

"That is the name outsiders have given it, yes."

"Okay," I grumbled. "But what's left of the boat? Anything or anyone from the boat?"

The man sighed. "All we had found of your watercraft was what had washed up onto the shore. A couple of bed frames, an unusable radio, a waterlogged guitar, and plenty of weapons in need of immediate repair. The only people we found were resting farther up the riverside, five necrotic bodies all tied to one another by metal chains. I don't suppose you know them?"

I was discomforted to know that my friends had not been found, but I did not even see a slave, so "No."

"Well, at least they were not friends. The death of a friend may be a terrible ordeal for any man to withstand. But, speaking of which, we are all friends in this place. So please, what is your name, friend?"

Slightly hesitant at first, I cautiously murmured, "Danny."

"Well then it is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Daniel. I am Saint Jimmy, and welcome to the Lost & Found."

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**May 17, 2284 – 4:02 pm**

By now my limbs were warm enough to stand up on, and the woman was helping me walk around my room. I had asked her name earlier. Her reply was "Whatsername." Fine, be that way.

When my ability to carry my body around was pretty much regained, Whatsername left the room in search of Jimmy. She left a book for me to read, a hard-back with permanent marker over the front, NONE OF THE ABOVE. When I opened it up, I realized that it was written in the style of the Bible. I never liked reading the Bible, so I put it down.

My backpack was gone. All my money, food, and clothes were at the bottom of the river, or in a giant monster's stomach. My Wasteland Survival Guide, which cost me upwards of forty caps, was probably ripped apart page-by-page by the water. Now I'd never know how to negotiate with Raiders without making them want to eat me.

My Pip-Boy was still on my arm – I decided not to remove it when I went to sleep. But it was acting up every time I tried to use it. Apparently, my body temperature was hanging around 60 degrees and my head was not connected to my body. Both of which were untrue, of course. It was just having trouble reading some parts of my anatomy.

I'd been waiting for some time in the tiny windowless room, after Jimmy told me he was fulfilling his daily deeds, and would come back to me when the tasks were finished. But it had been two hours, and I was more than bored. The mysterious book waited on the table, the only civilized object in the room besides the furniture. Doubtful that anything else exciting would happen, I opened its cover once more to a random page.

"86:5 - And the risen Lord said to the masses before him, 'There will be no more suffering, there will be no more famine.' And the skies did grow dark with God's gift of rain, and the people allowed it to wash over them. And the Lord said, 'There will be no more plague.' And the sick and those banished for their sickness found God's gift of healing, and the people allowed it to heal. And the Lord said, 'There will be no more ignorance.' And the minds of the masses grew aware of their circumstances, and of the sinners amongst them, and the people allowed forgiveness.

"But the Lord did then say, "This is His forgiveness. This is His gift. Be grateful for your gift, and need only give love and devotion in return. For if not.' The Lord paused, and raised his hands. And the rain stopped, and the sick grew weak once more, and the minds of the people once again shifted, paranoid and benighted. Now the Lord continued, "Then He will take his forgiveness and his gift back. And from then on, it will not be considered.' Now the Lord let down his arms, and the gifts of God returned, and all together the world breathed relief.

"Now a boy of Aden stood before his Lord and said to Him, 'That which we had done before, I shall not do. This I promise to my Lord.' And the Lord smiled on the boy, and spoke in a gentle tone. 'I know.'"

Was it Christian? It sure sounded like it. But when had this happened? And where was Aden? I flipped through the book aimlessly and opened it to a page that had come before passage 86.

"14:2 – He looked to the Earth, and frowned. What does man do, He asked of himself. Why are they so defiant as to ring the Bells above Heaven itself, to believe it Valiant? They build safe houses from themselves and from faith. They try to surpass their Lord in knowledge and deed, despite their failures, and continue trying. Is Earth not good enough for my children?

"So the Lord made a decision, and released a plague upon the Earth. His children suffered and cried out to make the suffering end. But most did not cry to their Lord. They cried to their alchemists and doctors to ease the pain of the plague. They had forgotten about God, and He lost faith in them."

"Angry, the Lord went to His children and crept into the minds of the men who led the people away from God. He could not change their minds, and so spoke to them so that suspicions may grow amongst themselves. God saw that his children were imperfect in other ways, and the suspicions led to hate and the hate led to quarrels and quarrels led to death. In the midst of the tribulation, Man destroyed itself. And God saw that this was just, and there was morning and there was evening that day."

That was crazy. Never had Father Helm ever mentioned a book like this. This described an apocalypse that completely eradicated man, which I thought was obviously yet to come to fruition, since I was a human reading that book right then.

I was going to flip randomly through again, when the door finally opened and Whatsername came through. She stopped and smiled.

"Ah, I see you have taken an interest in The Volume." She walked over and accepted the book when I gave it to her. "Each page of this tome describes the truth we all follow in good faith. You will learn more about this book in time." With that, she carefully slipped it into an interior coat pocket and beckoned me to follow her out the door.

Still a little shaky from waking up paralyzed, I limped after her while holding onto the wall. The hallway outside the door was just as blank and concrete. Nothing but the occasional crack or blood spatter decorated the walls. Along the way were doors identical to the one in my room, all in perfect order and separated an exact distance from one another. The hallways didn't seem to end until we reached a sudden corner and began climbing a set of stairs.

I began to ask the woman a question, but she shushed me and shook her head, still walking. We passed others, men, women and even children dressed in dirty robes and all holding knives or guns casually at their sides. The kids looked wide-eyed as I past them in my tight Vault jumpsuit and clunky computer on my arm, but the adults squinted in my direction with a flat-line frown. I felt uncomfortably out of place.

Whatsername continued down through a metal hallway now, and exited out of a lighted open doorway. When I followed her through it, my eyes stung incredibly with the sudden sunlight hitting my retinas. I grabbed my eyes and groaned just in time to hear the woman say, "Don't forget to cover your eyes… oh."

In maybe a minute, my pupils adjusted to the brightness and I was able to see where we were. The building we had come out of was a circular office building with a courtyard, where we now stood. In the center of the courtyard, a gigantic water container stood perfectly intact, but with stairs leading up to a hole in the metal. More people stood around, going about their daily business if they weren't staring at me. The courtyard was home to a blacksmith welding metal in the corner and a large group of women weaving blankets and clothes. In another area, men were pelting a small Yao Guai and carefully cutting the meat.

I looked at my still-operable Pip-Boy clock, which glowed a bright 4:58 in the corner. Whatsername turned to me after whispering to a man with a sun tattoo on his forehead, who ran off into one of the doors.

She said, "This is the Cloister, the home of the Lost & Found." The area did have covered walkways around the second floor – cloisters. The woman continued. "It is the only safe haven for our people for miles and miles. We live, work, and practice faith here - an oasis in a sea of chaos. You, Daniel, are lucky that your fate has led you to us. The Great Bare Tortoise spared you, because he knew that you were meant to come here, that your time had not yet come. Saint Jimmy believes this, as do I. Soon, the entire clan will believe as well, once they are given an opportunity to know and understand you."

I went along with it, unsure what she was trying to get at. I certainly wasn't any "Chosen One" or anything, but the faster I learned my way around, the sooner I might be able to find my way back home. She led me through the courtyard and to and up the stairs around the water tank, eventually to the huge scrap of metal sticking out of it, creating a makeshift balcony perhaps twenty feet from the ground. As soon as we neared it, Jimmy stepped out of the dark hole and smiled at me.

"Welcome, Child Daniel." He greeted. "I trust your physical state is, as the outsiders say, 'in working order?' "

"Yeah," I managed to get out. "I'm getting better."

"That is very good to hear," he smiled. "You are a very lucky son." Turning out to the people in the courtyard, some of whom had congregated at the bottom of the water tower, he raised his hand towards the hole he had come out of. Instantly, a bell rang out. It was loud and echoed inside the tank, coming out directly into my ears. Once it had sounded twenty one times, it and the crowd fell silent, and Saint Jimmy yelled one reverberating word.

"Loquor!" It was Latin. He continued. "Children of the Lost and Found! On this very Sabbath morning, a tragedy occurred. On the River Connecticut, lives were lost once again to the Great Bare Tortoise. The vessel by which they traveled was chosen for destruction, just as all of our lives are chosen in the very same way. The lives of the entire band of passengers were taken swiftly away; all except one. The one soul that the Great Bare Tortoise has ever spared, and whose body has drifted to us in those moments of desperation."

A murmur went through the crowd before Jimmy continued. Apparently the Montauk had never let a meal go to waste. "Surely fate has smiled upon this dear boy today. Surely he is meant to carry on, to complete his life mission. Surely, he was meant to come here. This is fate's will; this is the destiny laid out for him. Now we must act upon this destiny, and help him carry on."

He turned to me "This may very well be the dawning of the rest of your life." And back to his people. "His name is Daniel. He is but a boy. But he is here with us, and that is all that matters, for that is fate's will."

He grabbed me gently by the shoulder and propped me in front of him. I admit that I was anxious. For one, I had no idea what going on, or when I would be able to return home. But there in front of over a hundred people, I felt big as they kneeled on one knee and recited some verse.

"We are the waiting. The waiting unknown. Amen."

Jimmy shouted, "Can I get another Amen?"

"Amen!"

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_Author's notes:_

- I understand that lockjaw is a permanent disability. I used the word for lack of a better one.

- The Pip-Boy 5000 is broken... probably forever.

_- _The Volume is not an actual book in existence, but is related to the Bible. I wrote all the passages.


End file.
